{ARTS 


PS 

1499 
D17n 
1912 


DALY 

A  NIGHT  OFF 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


A  ROYALTY  PLAY 


A  NIGHT  OFF 


BY 


AUGUSTIN  DALY 


NEW  YORK 

LONDON 

SAMUEL  FRENCH 

SAMUEL  FRENCH 
LTD. 

PUBLISHES 

26  SOUTHAMPTON  STREET 

25  WEST  45th  STREET 

STRAND 

MRS.  PARTRIDGE  PRESENTS 

*  Comedy  in  3  acts.  By  Mary  Kennedy  and  Ruth  Haw- 
thorne. 6  males,  6  females.  Modern  costumes.  2  interiors. 
Plays  2i£  hours. 

The  characters,  scenes  and  situations  are  thoroughly  up-to- 
date  in  this  altogether  delightful  American  comedy.  The  heroine 
is  a  woman  of  tremendous  energy,  who  manages  a  business — as 
she  manages  everything — with  great  success,  and  at  home  pre- 
sides over  the  destinies  of  a  growing  son  and  daughter.  Her 
struggle  to  give  the  children  the  opportunities  she  herself  had 
missed,  and  the  children's  ultimate  revolt  against  her  well-meant 
management — that  is  the  basis  of  the  plot.  The  son  who  is  cast 
for  the  part  of  artist  and  the  daughter  who  is  to  go  on  the  stage 
offer  numerous  opportunities  for  the  development  of  the  comic 
possibilities  in  the  theme. 

The  play  is  one  of  the  most  delightful,  yet  thought-provoking 
American  comedies  of  recent  years,  and  is  warmly  recommended 
to  all  amateur  groups.  (Royalty  on  application.)  Price,  75  Cents. 


IN   THE   NEXT   ROOM 

Melodrama  in  3  acts.  By  Eleanor  Eobson  and  Harriet 
Ford.  8  males,  3  females.  2  interiors.  Modern  costumes. 
Plays  2*4  hours. 

"Philip  Vantine  has  bought  a  rare  copy  of  an  original  Boule 
cabinet  and  ordered  it  shipped  to  his  New  York  home  from  Paris. 
When  it  arrives  it  is  found  to  be  the  original  itself,  the  pos- 
session of  which  is  desired  by  many  strange  people.  Before  the 
mystery  concerned  with  the  cabinet's  shipment  can  be  cleared 
up,  two  persons  meet  mysterious  death  fooling  with  it  and  the 
happiness  of  many  otherwise  happy  actors  is  threatened"  (Burns 
Mantle).  A  first-rate  mystery  play,  comprising  all  the  elements 
of  suspense,  curiosity,  comedy  and  drama.  "In  the  Next  Boom" 
is  quite  easy  to  stage.  It  can  be  unreservedly  recommended  to 
high  schools  and  colleges.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.) 

Price,  75  Cents. 


SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 
Our  New  Descriptive  Catalogue  Sent  Free  on  Request 


A  NIGHT  OFF 

OK 

A    PAGE     FROM     BALZAG 

A  COMEDY  IN  FOUR  ACTS 

(FROM  THK  GERMAN  OF  SCHONTHAN  BROTHERS) 
BY 

AUGUSTIN  DALY 


As  produced  at  Daly's  Theatre  for  the  first  time;  Wednesday,  March 
4,  1885 


COPYRIGHT,  1897,  BY  AUGUSTIN  DALY 

COPYRIGHT,  1912,  (IN  RENEWAL)  BY 

JOSEPH  F.   DALY  AND  RICHARD  DORNEY,  EXORS. 


All  Rights  Reserved 

CAUTION. —  Professionals  and  amateurs  are  hereby  warned  that  "A 
NIGHT  OFF,"  being  fully  protected  under  the  copyright  laws  of  the 
United  States  of  America,  the  British  Empire,  including  the  Dominion 
of  Canada,  and  the  other  countries  of  the  Copyright  Union,  is  subject 
to  a  royalty,  and  anyone  presenting  the  play  without  the  consent  of  the 
owners  or  their  authorized  agents  will  be  liable  to  the  penalties  by  law 
provided.  Applications  for  the  professional  and  amateur  acting  rights 
must  be  made  to  Samuel  French,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York,  N.  Y. 


NEW  YORK 
SAMUEL  FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

25    WEST   45iH    ST. 


LONDON 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  LTD. 

26  SOUTHAMPTON  STREET 

STRAND 


A  NIGHT  OFF 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


Especial  notice  should  be  taken  that  the  possession  of 
this  book  without  a  valid  contract  for  production  first 
having  been  obtained  from  the  publisher,  confers  no 
right  or  license  to  professionals  or  amateurs  to  produce 
the  play  publicly  or  in  private  for  gain  or  charity. 

In  its  present  form  this  play  is  dedicated  to  the 
reading  public  only,  and  no  performance,  representation, 
production,  recitation,  or  public  reading,  or  radio  broad- 
casting may  be  given  except  by  special  arrangement  with 
Samuel  French,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York. 

This  play  may  be  presented  by  amateurs  upon  pay- 
ment of  a  royalty  of  Fifteen  Dollars  for  each  perform- 
ance, payable  to  Samuel  French,  25  West  45th  Street, 
New  York,  one  week  before  the  date  when  the  play  is 
given. 

Professional  royalty  quoted  on  application  to  Samuel 
French,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York,  N.  Y. 

Whenever  the  play  is  produced  the  following  notice 
must  appear  on  all  programs,  printing  and  advertising 
for  the  play :  "Produced  by  special  arrangement  with 
Samuel  French  of  New  York." 

Attention  is  called  to  the  penalty  provided  by  law  for 
any  infringement  of  the  author's  rights,  as  follows : 

"SECTION  4966:— Any  person  publicly  performing  or 
representing  any  dramatic  or  musical  composition  for 
which  copyright  has  been  obtained,  without  the  consent 
of  the  proprietor  of  said  dramatic  or  musical  composi- 
tion, or  his  heirs  and  assigns,  shall  be  liable  for  damages 
thereof,  such  damages,  in  all  cases  to  be  assessed  at 
such  sum,  not  less  than  one  hundred  dollars  for  the  first 
and  fifty  dollars  for  every  subsequent  performance,  as 
to  the  court  shall  appear  to  be  just.  If  the  unlawful 
performance  and  representation  be  wilful  and  for  profit, 
such  person  or  persons  shall  be  guilty  of  a  misdemeanor, 
and  upon  conviction  shall  be  imprisoned  for  a  period  not 
exceeding  one  year."— U.  S.  Revised  Statutes:  Title  60, 
Chap.  3. 


A  NIGHT  OFF 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS  AND  ORIGINAL  CAST. 

JUSTINIAN  BABBITT,  Professor  of  ancient  history  in  the 

Campto'um  tmivertity MR.   JAMES  LEWIS 

HARRY  DAMASK,  his  son-in-law MR.   OTIS  SKINNER 

JACK  MULBERRY,  in  pursuit  of  fortune,  under  the  name  of 

Chumley MR.  JOHN  DREW 

LORD  MULBERRY,  in  pursuit  of  Jack    ....      MR.  CHARLES  FISHER 
MARCUS  BRUTUS  SNAP,  ,'„  pursuit  of  fame  and  fortune, 

under  various  legitimate  aliases MR.   CHARLES  LECLERCQ 

PROWL,  usher  at  the  university MR.   F.   BOND 

MRS.  ZANTIPPA  BABBITT,  Professor  of  conjugal  manage- 
ment in  the  Professor's  household MRS.    G.    H.   GILBERT 

NISBE,  the  youngest  "imp"  of  the  household  ....      Miss  ADA  REHAN 

ANGELICA  DAMASK,  the  eldest Miss  VIRGINIA  DREHE 

SUSAN,   the   "brassiest" Miss    MAY   IRWIN 

MARIA,  servant  at  Damask's Miss  JEAN   GORDON 

TIME.— RECENTLY.  PLACE.— NEAR   BY. 

TIME    OF   REPRESENTATION. — Two    HOURS    AND    A    HALF. 


COSTUMES. 

PROF.  BABBITT.  Act  I. — ist  dress,  plain  black  suit  (frock  coat), 
hat  and  overcoat,  all  much  worn;  2d  dress,  dressing-gown  substi- 
tuted for  coat;  3d  dress,  coat  resumed,  hat.  Act  II. — Same  as  ist 
dress  in  Act  I.  Act  III. — Old-fashioned  evening  clothes,  much  too 
large  for  him;  hat  and  overcoat  for  last  entrance.  Act  IV. — Same 
as  Act  III. 

DAMASK.  Acts  I.,  III.,  and  IV. — Business  suit;  derby  hat; 
gloves.  Act  III. — House-jacket  and  cap. 

JACK.     Business  suit;  derby  hat. 

LORD  MULBERRY.  Heavy  clothing;  large  travelling  coat;  muffler; 
fur  gloves;  sealskin  cap,  etc. 

SNAP.  Acts  I.  and  II. — Very  loud  clothes,  with  plenty  of  jewel- 
lery. Fur-trimmed  ulster;  silk  hat.  Act  III. — Roman  costume  under 
the  ulster;  old  street  gaiters.  Act  IV. — ist  dress,  trousers  and  coat 
much  too  small  for  him;  Roman  breastplate  instead  of  shirt  front; 
zd  dress,  same  as  in  Act  I. 

PROWL.     Plain  suit  of  rusty  black. 

MRS.  BABBITT.     Act  I. — Travelling  costume.  Act  II. — Street  dress. 
Act  III. — House   (dinner)  dress.   Act  IV. — House   (morning)  dress. 

NISBE.  Act  I. — Travelling  costume.  Act  II. — Street  dress.  Act 
III. — House  (dinner)  dress;  hat,  wrap,  and  gloves.  Act  IV. — House 
(morning)  dress. 

ANGELIA.  Act  I. — Street  dress.  Acv  II. — House  (morning)  dress. 
Act  III. — House  (dinner)  dress.  Act  IV. — House  (morning)  dress. 

SUSAN.  Muslin  dress;  linen  collar  and  cuffs;  cap.  Hat  and 
shawl  in  Act  III. 

MARIA.    Conventional  housemaid's  costume,  with  hat  and  shawl. 
3 


PROPERTIES. 

ACT.  I.— Study-table  down  L.  Smaller  table  down  R.  Sofa  c., 
between  fireplace  and  footlights.  Curtains  at  alcove.  Lounge  and 
table  in  alcove.  Bookcases,  containing  books,  against  walls.  Clas- 
sical busts.  Chairs  near  tables  and  about  stage.  Carpet  down. 
Books,  papers,  writing-materials,  postal-card,  and  a  letter  contain- 
ing a  small  bunch  of  pressed  flowers,  on  study-table  down  L.  Books, 
Eamphlets,  newspapers,  etc.,  ,on  small  table  down  R.  Easy-chair  at 
replace.  Easel,  with  portrait,  R.  Table  near  c.  Cabinet  contain- 
ing silverware,  small  boxes,  jewel-cases,  etc.  Pack  of  cards  in 
drawer  of  table  R.  Portfolio  on  table  R.  Scrap-basket  near  table  L. 
Ornaments  on  L.  table.  Footstool.  Dusting-cloth  and  feather-duster 
for  SUSAN.  Load  of  copy-books  for  PROWL.  Spectacles  for  PRO- 
FESSOR. Large  roll  of  MSS.  in  drawer  of  L.  table.  Umbrella  for 
SUSAN.  Eyeglass  for  SNAP.  Four  photographs  (one  of  them  an 
opera  bouffe  character)  in  pocket  of  SNAP'S  ulster.  Satchels  anci 
hand-baggage  for  MRS.  BABBITT.  Flowers,  satchels,  etc.,  for  NISBE. 
Eyeglasses  for  MRS.  BABBITT. 

ACT  II. — Carpet  down.  Writing-table  c.,  with  desk-chair  in 
front  of  it,  and  an  easy-chair  near  by  at  L.  Chair  R.  of  table.  Sofa 
R.  Easy-chair  L.  Other  chairs,  and  ornaments,  pictures,  etc.,  ad  lib. 
Bell  and  writing-materials  on  table  c.  Card  on  tray  for  MARIA. 
Leather  pocket-book  for  JACK,  containing  photograph,  small  black 
curl  tied  with  a  pink  ribbon,  crushed  rosebud,  plain  gold  ring, 
package  of  bills,  and  pawn-ticket.  Hat  for  JACK  to  enter  with. 
Magaine  for  DAMASK.  Key  in  drawer  of  writing-table.  Note  for 
JACK.  Atomizer,  containing  cologne,  on  table  c.  Pocket-book,  con- 
taining a  single  bill,  for  PROFESSOR.  Watch  for  DAMASK.  Two 
cigars  in  paper  parcel  in  PROFESSOR'S  pocket.  Cigars,  in  case,  for 
DAMASK.  Loose  matches  in  PROFESSOR'S  pocket,  and  matches,  in  case, 
for  DAMASK.  Handkerchief  and  MSS.  for  SNAP. 

ACT  III. — Furnishings  used  in  Act  I.  Lighted  lamps  on  tables 
R.  and  L.  Fire  in  grate  c.  Band  music  off  stage.  Copy  of  Life  and 
bunch  of  keys  for  NISBE.  Watch  for  PROFESSOR.  MSS.  in  SNAP'S 
pocket.  Ticket  for  Jack.  Sheet  of  paper,  written,  for  SNAP.  Duster 
for  SUSAN.  Pen,  in  holder,  and  tickets  for  PROFESSOR.  Work-baSkets 
and  fancy-work  for  MRS.  BABBITT  and  ANGELICA.  Hat  and  over- 
coat for  PROFESSOR.  Hat  for  DAMASK  on  table  near  c.  Door-bell  off 
L.  c.  Pocket-book  and  contents  used  in  Act  II.  Small  medicine  vial 
for  MRS.  BABBITT.  Tea  and  tea-service  for  SUSAN.  Roman  costume 
for  SNAP  to  wear  under  ulster. 

ACT  IV. — Furniture,  bric-a-brac,  etc.,  as  per  Act  I.  Large  rug 
for  SNAP.  Tray,  with  breakfast,  for  SUSAN.  Large  valise  for  NISBE. 
Basket  for  SUSAN.  Watch  for  JACK.  Valise,  half  filled,  for  PRO- 
FESSOR. Wearing-apparel  in  alcove  up  R.  c.  Watch  for  MULBERRY. 
Clothes-basket,  nearly  full  of  knickknacks,  for  SUSAN. 


r — \ 


Theatre  Arts 
Ub 

P. 


COPY  ^ 
A   Nf<JTTT~X)FF; 


OR, 


A  PAGE  FROM  BALZAC 


ACT  I. 

SCENE.  —  The  PROFESSOR'S  Study.  At  back  c.,  a  mantel 
and  fireplace.  At  R.  c.,  an  alcove  which  can  be  closed  with 
a  curtain,  backed  by  a  window,  and  reached  by  a  step  or 
two.  At  L.  c.,  general  entrance  to  the  apartment.  Doors, 
R.  and  L.  Down  L.  a  study-table,  full  of  books,  papers, 
etc.  Down  R.  a  smaller  table  with  books,  etc.,  newspapers 
and  pamphlets.  A  sofa  at  c.,  between  fire  and  front.  A 
lounge  and  table  in  the  alcove.  Bookcases  against  the 
walls,  classical  busts,  etc. 

The  curtain  rises  to  a  very  bustling  air,  and  SUSAN  is 
discovered  wiping  the  dust  from  the  furniture  with  a  cloth, 
her  duster  under  her  arm.  READ  Y  PROWL,  to  enter  L.  c. 

SUSAN.  Not  much  of  a  job  to  dust  the  house  when  missus 
is  away.  The  Professor  wouldn't  know  if  the  dust  was  an 
inch  thick  on  everything.  (Ticks  up  a  folded  country  news- 
paper.} Here's  the  morning  paper  not  opened.  Let's  see 
what's  in  it.  (Leans  against  table  as  she  opens  the  paper. 
Suddenly  gives  a  start.)  Oh,  my  !  Here's  a  start.  (.Reads.) 
"Opera  House.  Special  Announcement.  The  Grandest 
Combination  of  Dramatic  Talent  in  the  World.  The  under- 
signed respectfully  announces  the  appearance  of  the  renewed 
5 


6  A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

Central  Park  Combination  in  a  series  of  their  brilliant  per- 
formances, pronounced  by  press  and  public  the  ne plus  ultra 
of  dramatic  representations."  (Speaks?)  Gracious  !  don't  that 
sound  splendid  ?  (Reads?)  "  The  management  guarantees 
that  each  performer  in  this  Matchless  Troupe  is  an  ac- 
knowledged Star  —  the  whole  forming  a  galaxy  of  histrionic 
constellations.  Having  recently  concluded  a  brilliant  en- 
gagement at  the  New  York  Central  Park  Casino  before  the 
wealth  and  culture  of  the  Metropolis,  will  appear  before  the 
discriminating  and  intelligent  public  of  this  far-famed  Uni- 
versity Centre,  on  Monday  evening,  March  ist,  and  every 
evening  until  further  notice.  Each  performance  will  be 
under  the  personal  supervision  of  the  public's  most  obedient 
servant,  Marcus  Brutus  Snap,  Manager.  For  particulars, 
see  programmes.  No  connection  with  any  other  combina- 
tion on  the  road."  (Speaks?)  Well !  I  know  this  much. 
While  Mrs.  Babbitt's  away,  I'll  go  to  the  theatre  every  night. 
Catch  her  letting  me  out  if  she  was  home!  (Puts  paper  on 
table,  L.) 

PROWL,  a  severe  man,  ENTERS  with  a  load  of  copy-books. 

PROWL  (L.,  in  surly  tone).     Professor  in  ? 

SUSAN  (J>uts paper  down).  Be  back  presently.  What  have 
you  got  there  ? 

PROWL.     Composition  books.    Fourth  class.    Fifty-two  of 
'em.     (Puts  them  on  table,  crosses  to  R.) 
«     SUSAN.     And  when  have  we  got  to  look  over  them  ? 
•     PROWL.     By  day  after  to-morrow. 

[READ  Y  PROFESSOR,  to  enter  L.  c. 

SUSAN  (crosses  to  L.  table,  opens  one  of  the  books  and 
reads).  "  The  Second  Punic  War."  Great  jiminy !  The 
Professor  will  shudder  when  he  sees  'em.  Say,  do  you 
know,  these  Punic  Wars  generally  strike  us  every  year  about 
the  same  time,  just  as  we  are  pickling  cucumbers? 

PROWL.     It's  the  everlasting  round  that  drives  me  mad. 


A  Night  Off  j  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.  5 

The  boy,  like  history,  repeats  himself.  I  hate  boys.  I've 
been  usher  twenty-five  years,  and  I  hates  'em.  I  have 
dreams  in  which  I  cuts  off  millions  of  'em  at  a  blow. 

SUSAN  (who  has  been  looking  over  a  book}.  Did  you 
ever  hear  such  a  dunce  ?  Listen  to  what  this  chap  writes  : 
"The  First  Punic  War  having  finished  in  the  year  241  B.C., 
the  Second  Punic  War  commenced  in  the  year  218  B.C.,  or 
just  23  years  after."  Now,  did  you  ever  !  As  if  the  year 
218  could  come  after  the  year  241  !  (Slams  book  on  the  pile. 
Crosses  to  R.) 

PROWL.     I  wish  that  was  the  worst  they  did. 

The  PROFESSOR  ENTERS  from  the  street,  L.  c.,  in  hat  and 
overcoat.     Both  much  worn.     He  wears  gold  spectacles. 

PROFESSOR  (c.).     Now,  Prowl  !     What  brings  you  here? 
PROWL  (L.).     Brought   the   composition   books.      (Points 


PROF,  (assisted  by  SUSAN  in  removing  his  coat}.  Oh,  very 
well. 

SUSAN  (R.).     They're  full  of  mistakes,  too. 

PROF.     Indeed  !     (Gives  her  his  hat  and  coat?) 

SUSAN.     And  the  umbrella  ? 

PROF.     What  umbrella  ? 

SUSAN.  Oh,  dear!  The  new  silk  one,  Professor.  I  re- 
minded you  not  to  leave  it  behind  you  again. 

PROF,  (c.,  uneasily).     Have  I  really  — 

SUSAN.  Of  course!  What  day  is  this?  Wednesday! 
Ancient  history,  fifth  class,  from  2  to  3  ;  first  class  from  3  to 
4.  Run  and  look  for  it,  Mr.  Prowl.  (Crosses  to  c.) 

PROF.     It  may  be  in  the  faculty's  room. 

PROWL.     Very  good,  Professor. 

SUSAN  (calls  after  him}.  Dark  brown  !  The  handle 
shakes  a  little,  and  the  catch  is  missing.  [PROWL  EXITS. 

PROF,  (who  has  come  down  to  his  writing-table,  L.).  No 
letters  from  my  wife,  Susan  ? 


8  A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

SUSAN.     No,  sir. 

PROF.  None  to-day.  None  yesterday.  I  hope  nothing 
has  happened. 

SUSAN.     What  could  have  happened?     Don't  worry. 

PROF.     Has  anybody  called? 

SUSAN.    Yes,  sir ;  gentleman  to  see  you.    Half  an  hour  ago. 

PROF.     Who  was  it  ? 

{READ  Y  DAMASK  and  ANGELICA,  to  enter  L.  c. 

SUSAN.  I  don't  know  him.  Odd-looking  gentleman. 
Smooth-shaved  face,  lots  of  rings  on  his  hand.  Said  he'd 
call  again  in  half  an  hour. 

PROF.     Very  good.     We'll  see  who  it  is. 

SUSAN.     What  shall  I  cook  for  supper,  sir  ? 

PROF.  Don't  bother  me  about  that.  Cook  what  you 
please. 

SUSAN.  That's  what  you  always  say,  and  when  I  do  you 
won't  touch  anything. 

PROF,  (with  a  sigh).     I  have  no  appetite. 

SUSAN.  Of  course  you  haven't.  You  study,  and  write, 
and  work,  day  and  night.  You  should  take  exercise.  Pro- 
fessor, try  roller-skating.  (Struck  with  idea?)  But  wait  till 
the  theatre  comes ;  you  shall  go  every  night. 

PROF.     The  theatre  ? 

SUSAN.  Yes.  Didn't  you  read  the  paper  ?  Here  it  is. 
(Points  to  paper?)  Opera  House,  March  ist. 

DAMASK  puts  his  head  in  door,  L.  c. 

DAMASK.  Good-morning,  papa !  There's  a  charming 
little  woman  in  the  next  room.  Shall  I  bring  her  in  ? 

PROF.  A  charming  —  ?  Oh,  you  mean  your  wife.  Cer- 
tainly, certainly.  (Gets  R.) 

ANGELICA  pushes  DAMASK  aside  and  looks  in.     SUSAN 

EXITS,  L.  c. 

ANGELICA.  Papa,  do  you  want  this  horrid  creature  to 
come  in,  too? 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.  9 

PROF.  (R.).  Come  in,  you  big,  overgrown  children  ;  you 
show  yourselves  seldom  enough  to  your  poor  forsaken 
father. 

DAM.  (coming  down.  c.).  I  know  it's  wrong,  but  we  are 
so  snug  and  happy  together. 

ANG.  (L.).     And  Harry's  away  all  day  — 

PROF,  (crosses  to  c.).     Of  course.     It's  right.     It's  right 

ANG.     But  you  should  come  to  see  us. 

DAM.     What  do  you  do  with  yourself  all  alone  ? 

PROF.  (c.).  It's  dull  enough.  I  had  no  idea  I  should 
miss  your  mamma  and  Nisbe  so  much. 

ANG.     When  did  you  hear  from  them  last  ? 

PROF,  (crosses  to  L.,  handing  her  a  letter  from  table,  L.). 
Day  before  yesterday. 

ANG.  (opens  letter).  Pressed  flowers  inside.  How  ro- 
mantic of  mamma !  (Takes  out  a  small  bunch  of  pressed 
flowers. ) 

PROF.     Nisbe  picked  them  in  her  walks.     (Crosses  to  c.) 

ANG.     So  nice.     (Reads  letter?) 

DAM.  (R.).  So  the  Springs  are  doing  mamma  some 
good  ? 

PROF.  (c.).  Yes  ;  but  not  me.  (Takes  him  one  side.)  I 
say,  my  dear  boy,  these  watering-places  cost  a  great  deal  of 
money.  I've  reckoned  it  up.  I  won't  get  off  for  less  than 
four  hundred  and  sixty  dollars. 

DAM.  (R.).  But  it  was  really  indispensable  for  your 
wife's  health. 

PROF.  And  for  Nisbe's  too.  The  girl  is  twenty,  and 
must  be  shown  about  a  little.  But  you  know  how  closely  I 
have  to  manage  with  my  salary.  Four  hundred  and  sixty 
dollars  make  a  big  hole  in  my  calculations.  I  have  bridged 
it  temporarily  by  drawing  on  Nisbe's  money  in  the  savings 
bank,  but  that  must  be  replaced,  for  if  my  wife  found  it  out 
—  (tiervotisly). 

DAM.     It  might  be  unpleasant. 


JO          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

PROF.     I  wonder  if  I  ought  to  risk  a  little  in  stocks. 

DAM.     Professor  —  don't  think  of  it. 

PROF.     Other  people  do  it. 

DAM.     But  you  know  nothing  about  stocks. 

PROF.  That's  so.  (Crosses  to  R.)  But  there's  no  money 
to  be  made  with  what  I  do  know  about. 

ANG.  Mamma  and  Nisbe  seem  to  be  enjoying  themselves. 
(Folding  the  letter.} 

{READ  Y  SUSAN,  with  umbrella,  to  enter  L.  c. 

PROF,  (crosses  to  c.).  I  don't  begrudge  'em,  but  I  have 
to  live  like  a  hermit. 

ANG.  (L.,  rising).  Poor  papa!  What  do  you  do  with 
yourself  ? 

PROF.  I've  tried  everything.  Put  my  library  in  order. 
Rummaged  through  my  letters  and  manuscripts  as  far  back 
as  my  college  days.  (Crosses  to  L.)  Stop !  I've  unearthed 
this  thing  here  and  really  got  some  pleasure  out  of  it. 
(Takes  a  large  roll  of  MS S.  from  drawer?) 

DAM.  (crosses  to  c.,  taking  if).  What  is  it?  Look's  like 
poetry. 

PROF.  (L.).     It's  worse !     It's  a  tragedy. 

ANG.  (R.).     Written  by  you  ? 

PROF.  Yes ;  at  college.  What  student  has  not  written  a 
Roman  tragedy.  When  I  read  it  over  again  the  other  day,  I 
enjoyed  it  immensely.  Of  course  it's  crude  and  unfinished, 
but  there's  snap  in  it, 

SUSAN  ENTERS,  L.  c.,  with  the  umbrella. 

and  fire  —  the  fire  of  youth.     Isn't  there,  Susan  ? 

SUSAN  (clasping  the  umbrella  to  her  bosom,  and  with  a 
heavenward  sigK).  O  Professor  ! 

PROF,  (crosses  to  DAMASK).  You  must  know  I  read  it  to 
her. 

DAM.  and  KKG.  (laughing).  Read  it  to  Susan!  Ha,  ha, 
ha! 


A  Nig-ht  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.          \\ 

PROF.  (L.  c.).  Laugh  away.  I  never  see  you,  and  a  man 
must  read  his  good  things  to  somebody.  So  Susan  had  to 
suffer. 

SUSAN.  O  Professor  1  I  loved  to  listen  to  it.  Mr.  Harry 
(crosses  to  him},  it's  a  heavenly  piece  !  But  so  sad  !  Oh,  so 
sad  !  (  Wipes  her  eyes  and  sobs.) 

PROF.     Now  don't  commence  to  howl  again. 

SUSAN  (crying).     I  can't  help  it    If  I  only  see  the  writing, 
I  must  cry.     It's  just  like  peeling  onions.     (ISXIZS,  L.  c.) 
[ANGELICA  takes  up  a  book  from  table,  R.,  and  reads. 

PROF.  You  see  how  I've  degenerated  these  last  four 
weeks.  Reading  my  youthful  donkeyisms  to  a  servant. 

DAM.  No  harm  in  that.  Moliere  read  his  plays  to  his 
housekeeper.  The  criticism  of  an  unhackneyed  mind  — 

ANG.  (starting  up).  Oh  !  oh  !  this  is  too  horrible  !  (Goes 
across  to  table,  L.  She  still  carries  in  her  hand  the  pressed 
flowers.  She  also  takes  over  the  book  she  has  been  reading. 
Throws  herself  on  seat) 

PROF.     What  is  it  ? 

DAM.     What's  the  matter  ? 

ANG.  O  papa !  Is  the  man  who  wrote  this  book  to  be 
believed  ? 

PROF,  (adjusts  his  spectacles,  and  looks  at  title  of  book). 
Balzac  !  (Smiles.)  Well,  I  believe  he's  considered  a  judge 
of  human  nature. 

ANG.  (throws  flowers  into  basket).  Is  he  ?  (Crosses  to 
DAMASK.)  Then,  sir,  what  have  you  got  to  say  ? 

DAM.     Say  to  what  ? 

ANG.  There  !  Please  read  for  yourself.  (Shows  an  open 
page.) 

DAM.  (R.,  reads).  "  Every  bride  that  lives  —  if  she  could 
but  know  the  past  and  secret  life  of  her  husband  —  would 
renounce  him  even  at  the  steps  of  the  altar."  Well  1  (Re- 
turns book.) 

ANG.     Well  ?    What  has  your  past  life  been  ? 


12          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

DAM.     Really,  my  love  — 

ANG.     Papa,  what  has  his  past  life  been  ? 

PROF.     Nonsense ! 

ANG.  (c.,  mimicking  them).  "  Really,  my  love  !  "  "  Non- 
sense  !  "  You  won't  get  off  with  that.  Here  is  the  book. 
Confess. 

DAM.     But  I  haven't  anything  to  confess. 

ANG.  Then  how  could  the  man  make  such  an  asser- 
tion ?  , 

DAM.     Simply,  he  didn't  know  me,  that's  all. 

ANG.  We'll  see  if  you'll  be  so  witty  when  we  get 
home.  You  think  papa  protects  here.  Good-evening,  papa  1 
(Throws  book  on  table,  L.) 

PROF.     Going  so  soon  ? 

DAM.  (crosses  to  her).     Angelica,  listen  to  reason. 

ANG.  (waving  him  off').     We'll  talk  it  over  at  home. 

{READ  Y  SUSAN  and  SNAP,  to  enter  L.  c. 

DAM.     Nice  prospect ! 

PROF,  (getting  R.).  You're  both  always  telling  me  about 
your  domestic  happiness,  and  every  time  I  see  you,  you  end 
up  in  a  quarrel. 

ANG.  (half  crying).  You  take  his  part,  do  you  ?  Oh,  if 
mamma  were  only  home  !  I'd  soon  know  everything.  (Goes 
to  door.) 

DAM.     Wait  for  me.     I'll  go  with  you. 

ANG.     Don't  trouble  yourself.     (EX'ITS,  L.  c.) 

DAM.  (after  a  pause,  during  which  he  and  the  PROFESSOR 
look  at  each  other).  Professor,  I  don't  wish  to  reproach  you, 
but  if  /  ever  have  a  daughter,  I'll  train  her  up  to  place  im- 
plicit confidence  in  her  husband.  (EXITS,  L.  c.) 

PROF.     Will  you  ?    Then  you'll  have  a  hard  job  of  it.    But 
I'll  tak?  this  as  a  warning.     Balzac  shall  be  concealed.     If 
my  wife:  got  hold  of  it,  she'd  be  quite  capable  of  putting  co- 
nundrums to  me.     (Hurries  off,  L.,  with  the  book.) 
SUSAN  ENTERS,  L.  c. 


A  Night  Off  j  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         J3 

SUSAN.     Step  in  here,  please. 

SNAP  ENTERS,  L.  c.  ;  wears  a  fur-trimmed  overcoat,  and  is 
very  loud  in  style. 

SNAP.     Exactly.     (Removes  hat,  which  he  places  on  table!) 

SUSAN.     I  told  the  Professor  you  had  called  before. 

SNAP.     Thanks  1     Thanks ! 

SUSAN  (crosses  to  L.).     I'll  tell  him  you've  come  again. 

SNAP.  Just  one  minute,  please.  (Takes  off  his  overcoat, 
and  lays  it  on  chair  with  his  hat.  Displays  a  very  loud  get-up 
imderneath.  Throws  his  frock  coat  open,  and  dangles  his  eye- 
glass with  a  light  comedy,  but  theatrical  air?)  We  must  get 
ready  for  the  first  entrance.  Have  the  goodness  to  say  that 
Mr.  Marcus  Brutus  Snap  begs  the  favor  of  an  interview. 

SUSAN  (amazed).     Mr.  Snap  !     Lor!     The  manager  1 

SNAP.  You  may  say  to  the  Professor  that  I  am  calling  on 
the  most  prominent  people  of  the  place,  and  add  that  I  am 
my  own  advance  agent  We  billed  the  town  last  night. 

[SUSAN  going. 
Stay  !  One  word  more.  Is  the  family  fond  of  the  drama  ? 

SUSAN  (L.).  Oh,  no  indeed  1  Since  I  lived  here  none  of 
'em  ever  went  to  the  theatre. 

SNAP.     And  a  —  how  —  how  —  long  have  you  lived  here  ? 

SUSAN.     Ten  years  the  Fourth  of  July. 

SNAP.  Ten  years  without  the  drama !  I  have  heard  that 
it  was  a  one-night  town.  I  believe  it.  And  why  —  why  don't 
you  go  to  the  theatre  ? 

SUSAN.     Mrs.  Babbitt  won't  allow  it. 

SNAP.     How  about  Mr.  Babbitt  ? 

SUSAN.     Oh,  he's  written  a  play. 

SNAP.     The  deuce  he  has ! 

SUSAN.  If  you  don't  believe  me,  there  it  is  on  his  desk 
now.  Oh,  that's  a  piece,  I  can  tell  you!  It's  all  about  the 
Romans  and  the  Greeks. 

SNAP.     Has  it  ever  been  produced  ? 


14          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

SUSAN  (indignantly).  No.  Nobody  ever  seen  it  even  — 
but  me. 

SNAP.     Ah !     (Meditatively) 

SUSAN.     Sir  ? 

SNAP  (still  meditating).     There's  more  in  this. 

SUSAN.     No,  there's  no  more  than  this  one. 

SNAP  (recovering).  I  crave  your  pardon  !  Stay,  another- 
word.  The  Professor  is  one  of  the  leading  men  in  the  Uni- 
versity ? 

SUSAN.  I  should  think  so.  When  he  crosses  the  street 
all  the  boys  take  off  their  hats. 

[READ  Y  PROFESSOR,  in  dresstng-gown,  to  enter  L.  D. 

SNAP  (R.).     So  —  so.     (Reflectively.} 

SUSAN.    What's  the  matter  ? 

SNAP  (recovering).     Ha  !  nothing  —  'tis  the  heat. 

SUSAN.     I'll  tell  the  Professor. 

SNAP.     That's  right. 

SUSAN  (going).  Cricky !  To  think  he  should  come  tc  our 
house  !  (EXIT,  L.  door} 

SNAP  (natural}.  Now,  my  boy,  for  a  little  diplomacy. 
When  we  played  in  Nantucket,  two  years  ago,  I  worked  a 
little  thing  like  this  to  perfection.  The  leading  banker  of 
the  place  had  a  daughter.  The  daughter  had  written  a 
play.  I  produced  it.  It  was  the  worst  I  ever  read,  but  we 
jammed  the  house.  The  old  man  brought  the  whole  town 
with  him.  Then  my  wife  gave  it  for  her  benefit,  and  we  sold 
the  house  out  again.  Two  crammed  houses  in  one  week. 
Shakespeare  couldn't  have  done  it  —  but  the  bank  did, 

The  PROFESSOR  ENTERS  L.  door,  in  a  dressing-gown. 

PROF.     You  wish  to  see  me,  I  believe  ? 

SNAP  (R.).  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  calling  to  invite 
your  attention  to  the  programme  of  my  company  which  is 
about  to  appear  at  the  Opera  House.  The  district  judge, 
who  is  now  in  town,  has  signified  his  intention  of  helping  us, 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac*         J5 

So  have  the  —  the  —  several  others  !  You  know  the  district 
judge,  of  course  ?  There  are  five  very  good  seats  right  along- 
side the  district  judge,  and  I  reserved  them  for  your  family, 
in  the  hope  that  —  that  — 

PROF.     I  am  very  sorry,  but  we  never  go  to  the  theatre. 

SNAP.  You  will  make  an  exception  with  us.  We  give  a 
varied  programme,  —  "  Romeo  and  Juliet."  "  Frou-Frou," 
"  7-20,3,"  "  Macbeth  "  and  "  Pinafore." 

PROF.     Variety  enough. 

SNAP.  And  we  play  them,  sir,  right  up !  They  go  like  a 
greased  wheel. 

PROF.     Really? 

SNAP.  It's  absolutely  a  star  performance.  My  wife  and 
myself  appear  in  everything.  You  could  wake  us  up  in  the 
middle  of  the  night  and  we'd  give  you  the  whole  repertoire 
without  a  break.  As  for  the  company  —  all  artists  !  You 
understand,  artists!  My  leading  young  man  is  a  marvel  — 
stepped  from  the  drawing-room  to  the  stage.  English,  of 
course  !  There's  a  mystery  about  him,  and  a  family  history 
—  a  history  and  a  mystery !  The  moment  he  comes  on,  you 
see  that  you  have  got  the  real  thing  before  you. 

PROF.  (L.,  shifting  his  position  uneasily}.    Indeed! 

SNAP.  It's  my  specialty  to  find  unknown  talent.  It's  the 
same  with  authors.  I  have  brought  men  forward  who  have 
made  fortunes.  Last  year  in  Nantucket  —  this  in  confi- 
dence —  a  young  lady,  of  a  wealthy  family,  gave  me  her 
maiden  effort  —  a  tragedy. 

PROF,  (interest}.  And  you  produced  it  ?  (Indicates  a  seal.) 
Sit  down. 

SNAP,  (sits  eagerly,  and  draws  his  chair  near  PROFESSOR). 
I  produced  it,  and  it  succeeded !  (Slaps  PROFESSOR'S  knee.] 
We  sold  the  house  out  six  nights  running.  My  wife  playec 
the  principal  part,  and  there  wasn't  a  dry  eye  in  the  tkeatre 
Now  they  play  it  everywhere,  outside  of  New  York,  and  the 
fair  author's  coining  money. 


J6          A  Night  OH;  or,  A  Page  from  BaUac. 

PROF.     Is  it  possible?    (Very  reflectively.) 

SNAP.  It's  the  solemn  fact.  (Rising  and  putting  chair 
back)  But  I  won't  detain  you ;  you  are  busy. 

PROF,  (detains  him).  Not  at  all,  my  dear  sir.  Pray  go 
on. 

SNAP.  No ;  I've  intruded  too  long  already,  and  as  you 
don't  take  any  interest  in  theatricals  — 

PROF.  Well,  I  can  hardly  say  that ;  you  see,  I  —  I  —  I  — 
have  a.  friend  who  has  written  a  play  ! 

SNAP.     No !     (Aside.)     He  nibbles. 

PROF.  I  happen  to  have  the  manuscript  by  me.  (Points  to 
table.)  It's  a  Roman  tragedy,  founded  on  the  historical  in- 
cident of  the  abduction  of  the  Sabine  maidens  by  the  Roman 
warriors. 

SNAP.  A  Roman  tragedy  !  The  very  thing  for  us.  My 
company  is  especially  adapted  for  Roman  tragedy,  my  wife 
particularly.  Might  I  beg  a  glance  — 

[READ  Y  SUSAN,  to  enter  L.  c. 

PROF,   (taking  up  the  MSS).     I  hardly  know  — 

SNAP.  Oh,  you  may  rely  on  me.  I'm  all  discretion.  What 
does  he  call  it  ? 

PROF.  (L.).     "  The  Beautiful  Sabine." 

SNAP.     Splendid  title  !     Immense !     Catching ! 

PROF.     You  think  so  ? 

SNAP.  Oh,  superb  !  Think  of  it  on  a  three-sheeter  :  — 
"  The  Beautiful  Sabine  1  "  Oh.  there's  draft  in  that  title  ! 
You  must  let  me  read  it.  I'll  take  it  with  me,  and  bring  it 
back  in  the  morning. 

PROF.     No  —  no  —  I  can't  let  it  out  of  my  hands. 

SNAP.  Very  good.  We  won't  quarrel  about  that.  I'll 
read  it  here  on  the  spot  —  that  is,  with  your  permission 
(trying  to  get  MSS). 

PROF.     Well,  I  don't  know  how  I  can  — 

SNAP.  Put  me  quietly  into  a  corner  for  half  an  hour,  and 
I'll  skip  right  through  it. 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac*          J7 

SUSAN  ENTERS,  L.  c. 

SUSAN.  Professor,  there's  a  gentleman  called  to  see  you. 
I  asked  his  name,  and  he  said,  u  No  matter  on  second 
thoughts  tell  him  Mulberry." 

IRE  AD  Y  MULBERRY,  to  enter  L.  c. 

PROF.  (L.).  "  No  matter  on  second  thoughts  tell  him 
Mulberry  "  !  I  don't  know  any  one  of  that  name. 

SUSAN.  He  said,  "  Tell  the  Professor  it's  an  old  friend  of 
his." 

PROF.  He's  nothing  of  the  kind.  What  impudence  1 
(Crosses  c.) 

SNAP.     Must  be  a  book  agent ;  I  recognize  the  cheek. 

PROF.     Did  you  tell  him  I  was  in  ? 

SUSAN.     I  can't  tell  a  lie,  Professor,  and  I  did. 

PROF,   (sighs').     That  being  the  case,  show  him  up. 

SUSAN  (aside).  They've  got  the  play  out !  Oh,  cricky  ! 
we'll  go  to  the  theatre  every  night !  (EXITS,  crossing  to 
L.  c.) 

PROF.  If  you  really  insist  on  glancing  over  this  —  ahem 
—  trifle,  step  in  yonder,  and  draw  the  curtains ;  you  won't  be 
disturbed.  (Gives  MSS.  to  SNAP,  and  points  to  alcove,  R.  c.) 

SNAP.  Oh,  make  me  quite  at  home.  No  ceremony  with 
me  (going).  (Aside.)  I'll  produce  it  if  it's  worse  than  the 
banker's  daughter's.  (EXITS,  up  R.  c.) 

LORD  MULBERRY  ENTERS  briskly,  L.  c..  muffled  in  travel- 
ling-coat, shawl  round  throat,  big  fur  gloves,  etc. 

MULBERRY  (r..).  Ah.  my  dear  sir,  there  you  are;  I  haven't 
much  time  to  spare  —  just  travelling  through,  but  here  I  am. 
(Grasps  both  hands.) 

PROF,  (aside). .  I  never  saw  the  man  in  my  life. 

MUL.  (crosses  R.,  unwrapping  shawl).  I  keep  my  word, 
you  see. 

PROF,  (aside).  He's  taking  off  his  things.  (Aloud.)  Ex- 
cuse me,  but  I  really  — 


J8          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

MUL.  (pausing  in  the  act  of  disrobing).     You  don't 
her  me  ? 

PROF.     To  be  quite  honest  about  it  — 

MUL.  (eying  him).     Why,  Mulberry  ! 

PROF.  Mulberry !  Ah,  to  be  sure !  Mulberry  (aside}, 
not  an  idea. 

MUL.  Let  me  remind  you.  You  were  in  New  York  two 
years  ago. 

PROF.     Yes  ;  on  business. 

MUL.     I  suppose  so.     I  met  you  at  a  matin/e. 

PROF.     I  sometimes  — 

MUL.  So  do  I.  (Chuckles?)  We  sat  next  each  other,  and 
got  into  conversation.  I  told  you  I  was  an  Englishman,  and 
you  told  me  you  were  an  American.  I  was  surprised  to  hear 
it,  as  you  speak  the  language  so  correctly.  You  described 
the  hole  of  a  place  where  you  lived,  and  I  said  I  might  call 
and  hunt  you  up,  if  I  passed  through.  If  it's  not  agreeable, 
I'll  go.  (Begins  to  wrap  u£  again?) 

PROF,  (apologetically}.     Not  at  all  1  not  at  all ! 

MUL.     Not  at  all  agreeable  ? 

PROF.  I  mean  to  say  I'm  delighted.  (Asidt.}  I'm  not 
like  Susan,  I  can  tell  a  lie.  (Aloud.)  Pray,  sit  down  (They 
sit?)  I'm  only  sorry  that  my  wife  is  not  here.  She  is  now 
at  the  White  Sulphur  Springs  with  my  daughter. 

MUL.     Ah,  with  Angelica  ? 

PROF,  (astonished'}.     No ;  with  Sophonisba, 

MUL.  Oh,  the  youngest.  Angelica  was  suffering  from 
hay-fever.  Is  she  better  ? 

PROF.  Thank  you,  yes.  She  is  married.  (Aside.)  I 
must  have  been  very  confidential  with  him. 

MUL.  (presses  his  hand  to  his  head  and  .speaks  solemnly}. 
Is  the  marriage  a  happy  one  ? 

PROF.  Remarkably  so.  The  young  people  live  like  tur- 
tle-doves (aside),  or  did  until  this  afternoon. 

MUL.  (crosses  to  L. — strikes  table  with  his  clinched  fist}. 
Death  and  furies ! 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  BaUac.          J9 

PROF,   (bounds  up).     I  beg  pardon. 

MUL.  (sits,  L.  To  himself,  in  a  passion).  The  luck  — 
the  blind  luck  that  some  people  have  with  their  sons  and 
daughters  ! 

PROF.     I  trust  you've  had  no  bad  luck  with  yours. 

MUL.  (glares  at  him).  You  actually  talk  as  if  I  had  not 
told  you  the  whole  story. 

PROF,  (nervously).     Oh,  I  remember  —  your  daughter. 

MUL.  (savagely).  No  ;  I  have  no  daughter.  My  son,  my 
son  John,  the  rascal !  (Bangs  table?) 

\_READ  Y  SNAP,  to  appear  behind  curtain. 

PROF.     Oh,  yes  !  your  son  John,  the  rascal ! 

MUL.  (piteously  and  half  crying).  Things  went  on  just  as 
I  told  you  they  would. 

PROF,  (bewildered").     You  surprise  —  you  alarm  me. 

MUL.  (crossly).  How  can  it  alarm  you  ?  How  could 
they  turn  out  differently  ?  He  wouldn't  study ;  he  wouldn't 
go  into  the  army ;  he  would  run  into  debt ;  he  would  fall 
in  love  with  every  designing  minx,  and  now  he's  bolted. 
(Brings  his  fist  down  again.)  Bolted  ! 

[ The  PROFESSOR   moves  the  inkstand,  etc.,  out  of  his  way. 
Now  I  have  no  son.     It's  all  over. 

PROF,  (back  to  c.)     But  such  a  promising  young  man  — 

MUL.  Promising  !  Egad  !  I  couldn't  get  him  to  promise. 
(Pulling  his  chair  nearer?)  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  story. 

PROF,  (sighs).     Oh,  dear ! 

[SNAP  looks  in  from  behind  curtain. 

SNAP.     Professor !     Professor ! 

MUL.  (impatient).     What  the  devil's  that  ? 

PROF,  (rises).  Excuse  me  one  moment.  (Goes  to  SNAP.) 
What  do  you  want  ? 

SNAP  (meeting  him).  Don't  be  offended,  but  I  couldn't 
sit  there  and  contain  my  joy. 

PROF,   (tickled).     Have  you  read  it  ? 

SNAP.     I've  been  through  the  first  act.     It's  simply  grand ! 


20          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

Such  a  picture  of  human  passion  —  and  the  words,  the  dia- 
logue ! 

PROF.     You  really  think  it  could  be  performed  ? 

SNAP.  It  would  be  an  outrage,  Professor,  to  leave  such  a 
work  in  the  closet.  It  belongs  to  the  stage.  To  my  stage. 

PROF.     But  I  must  consider  — 

MUL.  (bounds  up).     If  you're  busy,  I'll  go. 

PROF.  (Dressing  him  back  into  seat,  returns).  No,  no.  I'll 
be  at  your  service  in  one  moment.  (Back  to  SNAP.)  Read 
the  other  acts.  They're  all  better  than  the  first. 

SNAP.  No,  Professor.  With  all  respect,  they  can't  be 
better.  That's  simply  impossible.  They  may  be  stronger, 
but  they  can't  be  better.  (Aside.)  I've  got  him  !  I've  got 
him  !  (Disappears  behind  curtain.) 

PROF,  (returns  to  seat).  Now,  my  dear  sir.  (ffe  is  much 
elated  and  rubs  his  hands) 

MUL.  Let  me  see  —  how  much  did  I  tell  you  that  day  at 
the  matine'e  ? 

PROF.  Well,  the  fact  is  that  my  mind  has  been  so  occu- 
pied since  — 

MUL.  (testily).  Then  there's  nothing  left  for  me  but  to 
go  all  over  it  again. 

PROF,  (shakes  his  head).     No  !  no  !  no  ! 

MUL.  To  make  a  short  story,  my  wife  was  a  woman  of 
romantic  ideas  —  all  poetry,  no  fortune.  We  were  married 
in  '48. 

PROF.     '48 -'85,  thirty-seven  years  ago. 

MUL.     How  time  passes  !     Well,  my  eldest  son  was  born. 

PROF.     Yes,  yes  ;  John,  the  rascal. 

MUL.  No,  sir ;  Reginald  Plantagenet  and  Victor  Chol- 
mondely  came  before  John.  John  is  the  youngest  and  the 
worst. 

SNAP  RE-ENTERS. 

SNAP.  Gentlemen,  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons  —  (to  PRO- 
FESSOR) but  I  have  a  question  to  ask. 


A  Night  Off;  of,  A  Page  from  Balzac.          2J 

PROF.     What  is  it  ?     (  Without  rising.) 

SNAP  (bending  down  to  his  ear).  Is  there  any  local  mil- 
itary organization  in  the  town,  or  a  fire  company,  or  any- 
thing of  that  sort  ? 

PROF.     Why  ? 

SNAP.  Well,  for  the  grand  procession  of  priests  at  the 
end  of  the  second  act.  It  requires  a  large  supernumerary 
force,  and  if  we  can  get  a  local  organization  —  eh?  See? 

PROF.     I  can't  possibly  say.     (Rises  and  puts  chair  back.) 

MUL.  (rising).     I'll  call  another  time.     (Puts  chair  back.) 

PROF,  (absently).     Any  time. 

MUL.  (severely).  I  am  confiding  a  most  important  family 
matter  to  you,  and  you  let  me  stand  here  — 

PROF,  (mildly  and  bewildered).  I'm  really  very  busy  at 
present. 

MUL.  (testily).  Do  you  think  I  have  nothing  to  do?  i 
must  catch  the  5-30  express. 

{READY SUSAN,  to  enter  L.  c. 

PROF.     What  a  pity  ! 

MUL.  Pity  won't  keep  this  train  back.  (Wraps  up.) 
When  I  get  through  in  New  York,  I'll  run  up  again  for  a 
day,  and  I  hope  (looking  at  SNAP)  we  shall  not  be  inter- 
rupted. 

PROF.    The  very  thing.    Come  when  you  can.    Don't  hurry. 

MUL.  Pray,  remember  where  we  left  off.  I  don't  want 
to  begin  all  over  again. 

PROF.     No,  no  ;  anything  but  that 

MUL.  Present  my  regards  to  your  wife,  but  not  a  word  to 
her  about  Jack.  I  wish  the  matter  kept  profoundly  secret, 
for  the  present.  (Wrings  PROFESSOR'S  hand  warmly,  wipes 
away  a  tear,  pats  PROFESSOR'S  shoulder)  Jack,  Jack,  why  did 
you  bolt !  (EXITS,  L.  c.) 

PROF.  What  a  man!  (To  SNAP.)  I  assure  you,  I 
haven't  the  remotest  notion  who  he  is !  (Rings  bell  sud- 
denly and  calls.)  Susan  ! 


22          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

SUSAN  ENTERS,  L.  c. 

SUSAN.     Yes,  sir. 

PROF.  (L.).  If  that  gentleman  calls  again,  I'm  not  at 
home.  I've  gone  out  and  won't  be  back.  I've  joined  an 
exploring  expedition  to  the  North  Pole.  You  tell  him  that, 
and  I'll  take  the  consequences. 

SUSAN.  Very  well.  I  wash  my  hands  of  it.  (EXITS, 
L.  c.,  shaking  her  head.) 

SNAP  (R.,  who  has  been  turning  over  the  pages  of  the  MSS. 
at  R.  table).  Professor,  I  am  willing  to  stake  my  reputation 
on  this  production.  That  situation  at  the  end  of  act  third 
can  be  worked  up  to  create  furious  enthusiasm  in  the  audi- 
ence. Only  see!  In  front  you  have  the  Roman  soldiers 
each  with  a  shrieking  maiden  in  his  ruthless  grasp.  At 
back,  in  centre,  King  Titus  Tatius  with  arms  raised  to 
Heaven,  invoking  a  malediction  on  the  foe.  At  that  instant 
the  moon  rises  in  crimson  radiance,  throwing  a  gory  splen- 
dor over  the  tableau.  I'll  stake  any  Saturday  night's  re- 
ceipts against  a  penny  whistle  that  we  send  the  people  home 
raving. 

PROF.  Well  then,  Mr.  Snap,  I'll  tell  you  the  truth  about 
the  play.  It's  not  by  a  friend.  It's  by  myself. 

SNAP.  I  knew  it.  I  knew  it  from  the  first.  Ah,  you 
can't  deceive  me,  Professor. 

PROF.  And  you  will  admit  that  in  my  position  as  a  lead- 
ing functionary  of  the  University,  and  with  my  family  con- 
nections opposed  to  theatrical  representations  —  I  can't 
think  of  producing  the  play. 

SNAP.  Why  not  ?  Your  name  needn't  appear.  We  an- 
nounce it  —  by  a  gentleman  of  this  city. 

PROF.  No;  it  would  be  sure  to  leak  out.  The  actors 
would  tell. 

SNAP  (R.).  Rely  on  us.  There's  no  blabbing  in  my  es- 
tablishment. My  wife  sees  to  that. 

PROF,  (crosses  to  R.).     Your  wife  ?      (Aside.}     That   re- 


A  Night  Off  j  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         23 

minds  me  of  my  wife.     If  she  should  discover!     (Aloud.) 
No,  no.     Put  it  out  of  your  head,  Mr.  Snap.     It  won't  do. 

SNAP  (entreatingly).  And,  Professor,  don't  rob  a  poor 
manager  of  his  one  chance  of  making  a  fortune  !  (Keenly.) 
And  don't  rob  yourself !  Think  of  the  money  pouring  in 
when  it's  brought  out  in  every  city  of  the  Union.  Your 
five  hundred  a  week  coming  in  as  regularly  as  your  Saturday 
breakfast. 

PROF,  (wavering).     But  if  it  doesn't  succeed  — 

SNAP.  Let  us  put  it  in  rehearsal,  and  if  you  say  at  the 
last  moment,  "  Don't  do  it,"  I'll  take  it  off. 

PROF.  Well,  if  you  leave  that  road  open  for  retreat  (im- 
pressively), and  pledge  the  profoundest  secrecy 

[SNAP  lays  his  hand  on  his  heart,  and  lifts  the  other 

heavenward,  moving  his  lips  in  dumb  oath. 
so  that  I  won't  run  any  risk,  I  may — I  say  I  may  make 
up  my  mind  to  consent. 

SNAP  (joyfully).  Your  mind  is  made  up,  Professor !  I 
see  it  shining  on  the  very  tip  of  your  nose. 

[PROFESSOR  touches  his  nose  absently. 

It's  settled.     (  Wrings  his  hand)     I'll  bill  it  for  the  opening. 
(Goes  for  his  coat) 

PROF.  (R.).     That's  only  a  week. 

SNAP.     March  i  st!     No  postponement ! 

PROF,  (aside).  My  wife  won't  be  home  for  a  fortnight 
at  least.  That  will  do  very  well.  (Aloud)  Are  you  sure 
you  can  cast  all  the  parts  in  your  troupe  ? 

SNAP.  We  have  cast  Shakespeare  from  end  to  end.  Let 
me  tell  you  what  I'll  do  for  you,  Professor.  (Puts  MSS.  in 
his  coat  pocket.)  To  prevent  any  chance  of  failure,  I  will 
play  King  Titus  Tatius  myself.  I  felt  that  part  as  I  read  it. 

PROF,  (reflectively).  Yes  —  but—.  He  ought  to  be  a 
person  of  very  large  and  venerable  and  imposing  presence. 
Don't  you  think  so  ? 

SNAP.     That  isn't  all,  Professor.     (Crosses  to  R.  with  an 


24          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

air.)  Grace,  royal  action,  dignity,  that's  what  the  part 
needs.  My  wife  will  play  Virgia,  the  heroine.  That  woman 
was  born  for  the  part  —  it's  written  all  over  her,  so  to  speak. 

PROF.     Indeed ! 

SNAP.  I've  got  some  of  her  photos  with  me.  (Takes 
photographs  from  pocket  of  his  ulster ;  which  he  has  thrown  over 
back  of  chair,  c.)  There  she  is  as  Lady  Macbeth!  (Hands 
one  to  the  PROFESSOR.)  There  she  is  as  Frou-Frou.  There 
she  is  as  Juliet,  and  here  she  is  as  Olivette.  Her  range  is 
wonderful. 

PROF.     It  must  be. 

SNAP.  If  you'll  .allow  me.  (Takes  them  back  from  the  PRO- 
FESSOR.) I'll  leave  one  here  as  a  memento.  I  think  the 
Olivette  is  the  best.  Gives  the  best  expression  —  shows 
more  of  her.  (Sets  photograph  of  an  optra-banffe  character  on 
table  L.,  facing  the  audience?)  And  now,  sir,  I'll  take  my 
leave.  (Puts  MSS.  in  pocket.) 

PROF.  (R.).  But  one  word,  Mr.  Snap.  The  —  the  part  of 
Virgia  is  a  —  a  —  a  very  young  girl,  and  your  wife,  eh  1 
don't  you  think  ?  [READ  Y  SUSAN,  to  enter  L.  c. 

SNAP.  Oh,  that  doesn't  matter !  That  woman  has  a 
power  of  facial  transformation  that  has  paralyzed  the  critics 
of  two  hemispheres.  They  call  her  "  The  Chameleon. "  Be- 
sides, she's  the  only  woman  in  the  company  that  can  play 
the  part.  I  can  see  her  at  this  moment  at  the  end  of  act 
second,  as  she  flings  herself  before  King  Romulus,  tears  the 
tunic  from  her  shoulders  (he  has  his  coat  half  on,  and  now 
tears  it  off,  suiting  action  to  word),  casts  it  at  his  feet,  and 
cries  :  — 

"  Though  keen  thy  sword  ;   victorious  thy  banner, 
Thou  canst  of  life  deprive  me,  not  of  honor." 

(Drops  on  his  knee,  then  picks  up  his  coat,  etc.)  I  have  the 
honor.  (EXITS,  L.  c.) 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         25 

PROF,  (comes  forward^  rubbing  his  hands  in  ecstasy).  If  my 
wife  only  gives  me  two  weeks  longer,  and  nobody  suspects, 
I'll  do  it. 

SUSAN  ENTERS,  hurrying  in,  L.  c. 

SUSAN.  Professor,  Professor,  he's  taking  our  tragedy  with 
him ! 

PROF.     Who  ? 

SUSAN.  The  manager.  I  saw  it ;  he  had  it  under  his 
arm. 

PROF,  (crossing  to  L.).     But  I  tell  you  — 

SUSAN  (slyly).  Ah,  Professor  !  Can't  I  see  how  the  land 
lies  ?  It's  going  to  be  produced  at  a  real  theatre,  by  real 
actors. 

PROF.  (L.).     Hush  !     Don't  bellow  it  all  over  the  place. 

SUSAN  (whispers').     Mustn't  nobody  know  it  ? 

PROF.  Of  course  not !  Don't  you  dare  to  breathe  a  word 
of  it  to  anybody  —  above  all,  not  to  my  wife.  (Aside.)  I'll 
write  her  at  once  to  stay  another  fortnight.  (Sits  at  table,  L., 
to  write.) 

\READ  Y  MRS.  BABBITT,  with  satchels  and  hand- 
baggage,  to  enter  L.  c. 

SUSAN  (while  he  writes).  Oh,  trust  me,  there  sha'n't  a  soul 
know  of  it,  not  if  they  was  to  tear  it  from  me  with  wild 
horses.  I  only  thought  of  it  yesterday,  Professor,  while  I 
was  beating  the  rugs,  how,  when  Missus  Babbitt  comes  home, 
all  our  fine  times  will  be  over.  I'll  never  forget  'em,  Profes- 
sor (with  emotion).  You  a-sitting  there  evenings  a-reading, 
and  a-reading,  and  the  big  tears  chassaying  down  my  cheeks. 
And  then  I'd  dream  all  night  I  was  a-acting  every  part  of  it, 
all  by  myself,  on  top  of  the  stage.  (Gesticulates  violently,  as 
if  acting.) 

PROF,  (looks  up  from  writing,  but  not  heeding  her).  If  I 
could  only  think  of  a  pretext  to  keep  my  wife  away.  Ah,  I 
have  it !  (SUSAN  drops  violently  on  her  knees.  PROFESSOR 
writes.} 


26          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

[READ  Y  NISBE,  with  flowers,  satchels,  etc.,  to  enter 

L.  C. 

SUSAN  (rises).  One  thing  is  certain  ;  when  the  piece  is 
acted  at  our  theatre,  I  must  be  there.  If  Mrs.  Babbitt  won't 
let  me,  I'll  run  off  without  leave,  and  if  she  packs  me  off  the 
next  day,  I'll  console  myself  with  those  beautiful  lines  out  of 
our  play :  — 

"  And  though  thy  anger  have  no  end, 

Then  break  my  heart;   it  shall  not  bend."' 

PROF,  (gives  her  a  postal  card).  Mail  this  postal  card  at 
once.  Egad,  Susan,  I  think  I'll  put  on  my  coat,  and  steal 
over  to  the  theatre,  and  have  a  look  at  the  stage-  (EXIT, 

L.D.) 

SUSAN  (reading  from  the  postal  card).  "My  darling:  — 
I'm  sitting  all  alone  at  my  writing-table,  with  my  solitary  cup 
of  tea."  O  Professor  1  (Looks  towards  L.) 

During  the  above,  MRS.  BABBITT  has  ENTERED,  L.  c.,  in 
travelling-costume,  with  satchels  and  hand-baggage. 

MRS.  BABBITT.     Susan,  what  are  you  doing  there  ? 

SUSAN  (aside).     Mercy  on  us  !     Mrs.  Babbitt,  I  declare  1 

MRS.  B.  (L.).     What  are  you  reading  there  ? 

SUSAN  (hesitatingly).  Only  a  postal  card  from  the  Profes- 
sor to  you,  ma'am. 

MRS.  B.  (snatches  card).  And  you  read  it !  Go  help  So- 
phonisba  with  her  things. 

SUSAN.  Yes  'em.  (Aside,  crossing  up  c.)  What  will  the 
Professor  do  now  ?  (Aloud.)  Let  me  help  you,  Miss  Nisbe. 

NISBE  ENTERS,  loaded  up  with  flowers,  satchels,  etc.,  L.  c. 

NISBE  (down  c.).     Never  mind  me.     Where's  papa  ? 
SUSAN.     The  Professor,  Miss,  he's  only  in  his  room,  he 
was  just  going  to  the  Opera  House. 
MRS.  B.     To  the  what  ? 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac,         27 

SUSAN  (L.).  Yes  'em,  about  the  —  (remembers).  Oh, 
cricky !  (Aloud?)  For  his  soda  water,  ma'am.  He  goes 
there  every  day  for  his  soda  water. 

[NiSBE  puts  her  things  down. 

MRS.  B.     Indeed  1     Go  and  help  to  bring  up  our  trunks. 

SUSAN.  Yes,  ma'am.  (Aside  ;  going?)  Oh,  dear,  our  jig's 
up  now ! 

Nis.  (going,  L.).     I'll  go  and  tell  papa  we've  come. 

MRS.  B.     Stay  where  you  are.     We'll  surprise  him  here. 

Nis.  How  delighted  he'll  be.  Just  after  writing  to  you, 
too.  What  does  he  say,  ma  ? 

MRS.  B.  (puts  on  her  glasses  and  reads).  "My  darling  :  " 
—  Ah,  he  always  calls  me  his  darling.  "  I  am  sitting  alone 
at  my  writing-table,  with  my  solitary  cup  of  tea."  (Stops  and 
looks  at  NISBE.) 

[NiSBE  looks  at  her  mother,  and  then  towards  the 
tables,  R.  and  L. 

"  The  household  sleeps.  All  is  silence  and  darkness,  for 
midnight  has  just  sounded." 

Nis.  Midnight !  Why,  mamma,  it's  only  quarter  to  five 
now. 

MRS.  B.  There's  something  strange  about  this.  (Reads?) 
"  Before  me  on  my  table  stands  your  portrait." 

Nis.  (goes  to  table  and  finds  the  photo  which  SNAP  left  there. 
She  looks  at  it  and  starts).  O  papa  !  (Hastily  conceals  it.) 

MRS.  B.     What's  the  matter  ? 

[READ  Y  PROFESSOR,   to  enter  L.  D. 

Nis.  (innocently).     Oh,  nothing. 

MRS.  B.  (reads).  "  The  flowers  plucked  by  my  sweet 
child  are  in  a  glass  of  water  before  me." 

Nis.  (indignant).     O  mamma,  they're  in  the  waste-basket ! 
\They  look  at  each  other,  turn  away  and  look  round 
the  room. 

MRS.  B.  Nothing  but  falsehoods  !  (Reads.)  "  I  long  to 
see  both  of  you  again ;  yet,  for  your  own  dear  sakes,  I  beg 


28          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

you  to  remain  where  you  are  for  another  fortnight.  Be- 
sides, we  are  quite  upside  down  at  home.  Susan  has  just 
left  us"  — 

Nis.     What  ? 

MRS.  B.  (reads  quickly}.  "  Poor  Susan  has  flown  to  the 
assistance  of  her  aunt  in  New  Haven,  who  has  been  seized 
with  a  cerebral  meningitis.  I  gave  her  leave  for  a  week, 
and  she  started  last  night  with  a  few  things  in  my  handbag." 

Nis.     Mamma  !     (Clasping  her  hands.} 

MRS.  B.      Horrible  !     (Sinks  in  chair.} 

PROFESSOR,  L.  D.,  is  heard  singing  outside. 

PROF.  Then  to-night  we'll  merry,  merry  be  !  (ENTERS 
and  sees  them  ;  he  has  his  hat  cocked  jauntily?)  Heavens  !  my 
wife  !  (  With  exaggerated  kindness. }  Why,  my  darling  Zippy 
(crosses  to  c.),  and  dear  little  Nisbe  !  —  What  a  glorious  sur- 
prise !  I've  so  longed  for  you.  Just  sent  off  a  postal  card 
begging  you  to  come  back  as  soon  as  possible.  (Aside.} 
I'll  write  another  to-night.  (Crosses  to  L.) 

MRS.  B.  (rises  majestically).  Professor  Babbitt,  I  have 
just  read  the  postal  card  you  sent.  (Shows  it.} 

PROF,  (aside}.'  I'm  dished.  (Aloud.}  Would  you  be- 
lieve, my  love  — 

MRS.  B.  I  believe  nothing.  But  this  I  tell  you,  I've 
gone  to  the  Springs  for  the  last  time.  I'll  get  all  the  white 
sulphur  I  want  at  home,  and  so  will  you. 

PROF.     Now,  Zippy! 

MRS.  B.     Don't  touch  me.     (EXITS,  R.  D.) 

[READ  Y  curtain. 

PROF.     Nisbe ! 

Nis.  And  mamma  hasn't  seen  the  worst  yet !  (Shows 
him  the  photo.}  Is  that  mamma's  portrait? 

PROF.     Ye  gods  !     Olivette  !     (He  sinks  in  chair} 

[She  holds  picture  before  him  and  shakes  her  finger. 

CURTAIN  FALLS. 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Bakac.         29 


ACT  II. 

SCENE.  —  Reception  room  at  DAMASK'S.  A  very  handsome 
writing-table,  c.,  with  desk-chair  in  front,  and  an  easy-chair 
near  by  at  L.  Sofa,  R.,  and  chair,  L.  Doors,  R.  and  L. 
IVindow,  R.  c. 

TIME.  —  TJie  following  afternoon.  • 

DAMASK,  in  handsome  house-jacket  and  cap,  is  dis- 
covered at  desk,  writing.  He  finishes,  rings  bell, 
folds  paper.  MARIA  ENTERS  at  c.  READ  Y 
JACK,  to  enter  c.from  L. 

DAMASK  (giving  her  the  paper).  Take  that  to  Mrs.  Deda- 
live's  as  quick  as  you  can.  It's  a  prescription.  Tell  her 
she'll  find  full  directions  inside.  (MARIA  takes  letter  and 
EXITS,  c.  and  L.)  I'm  afraid  my  wife  needs  a  prescription 
more  than  anybody.  She  went  to  bed  with  a  headache  last 
night,  had  breakfast  sent  up  to  her  this  morning,  kept  her 
room  at  lunch-time,  and  has  been  speechless,  to  me,  all  the 
while.  And  all  because  I  have  no  past.  Was  anything  ever 
so  ridiculous  !  It's  a  bad  case.  I  really  believe  I  must 
have  a  consultation  over  it. 

MARIA,  c.from  L.,  ENTERS  with  her  hat  and  shawl  on,  and 
with  a  card  on  a  tray. 

MARIA.     A  gentleman  called  just  as  I  was  going  out,  sir. 

DAM.  (R.,  reads).  "Alfred  Chumley,  with  Snap's  Dramatic 
Combination."  (Shakes  his  head.)  Don't  know  him. 

MAR.  If  you  please,  sir,  he  wrote  something  on  the  other 
side. 


30          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

DAM.  Oh,  did  he  ?  (Turns  card  and  reads.}  "  Behind 
the  unsuggestive  alias  of  Chumley  is  concealed  the  identity 
of  your  old  college  chum  —  Jack  Mulberry."  (Speaks  de- 
lightedly.} Jack  Mulberry  !  (To  MARIA.)  Show  him  in  at 
once.  (She  EXITS.  He  reads.)  "  Who,  remembering  the 
pleasant  days  we  spent  together  as  students  at  Leipzig,  asks 
your  friendly  aid  in  a  matter  of  importance." 

JACK  ENTERS,  c.from  L. 

JACK  (L.  c.).     Old  fellow  ! 

DAM.  (R.).  Jack,  old  boy  1  Is  it  possible  you  are  an  actor, 
and  in  America  ?  [Shake  hands  ;  then  they  embrace. 

JACK.  Transformation,  isn't  it?  The  idle  drone  in  the 
hive  of  learning  turned  industrious  worker  in  the  flowery 
garden  of  the  drama.  Behold  me  !  Leading  juvenile,  ec- 
centric comedian,  light,  very  light  tenor  in  comic  opera,  with 
Snap's  Central  Park  Dramatic  Menagerie  ! 

DAM.  But,  my  dear  boy,  with  your  family,  your  prospects  ! 
What  brought  you  to  it  ? 

JACK.  The  path  that  leads  to  all  folly  !  (Crosses  to  R.) 
The  thorny  path  of  love  and  recklessness.  You  recollect,  I 
was  always  in  love. 

DAM.     I  remember  our  Hebrew  professor's  daughter. 

JACK.  We  exchanged  sighs,  glances,  smiles,  letters,  and 
vows  of  love  for  several  months. 

DAM.  (L.).  You  had  got  as  far  as  that  when  I  left  the 
University. 

JACK.  And  I  stopped  there.  It  appears  I  was  only  tenant 
at  will  of  her  heart  —  subject  to  a  month's  notice  to  quit.  I 
was  ejected.  Our  Greek  tutor  moved  in  with  a  lease  for 
life  ;  that  is,  she  married  him. 

DAM.     So  far  all's  well. 

JACK.  Worse  remains  behind.  I  went  home,  completed 
my  education  in  London  with  a  finishing  course  of  fast  life» 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.          3S 

and  ended  by  falling  at  the  feet  of  a  charming  little  serio 
comic  singer  at  the  Canterbury. 

DAM.  (impatiently}.  You  idle  fellows  are  all  of  a  piece. 
I  really  am  not  surprised  now  at  my  wife.  She  takes  us  to 
be  all  alike.  How  did  you  get  out  of  this  scrape  ? 

JACK.  I  didn't  get  out  of  it.  That's  what  I'm  here  for. 
You  can  help  me. 

DAM.  Excuse  me  !  (Crosses  to  R.)  I  decline  to  interfere 
in  these  irregularities. 

JACK.  My  dear  old  Socrates,  you  misunderstand.  The 
irregularity  is  all  over. 

DAM.     You  are  sure  ? 

JACK.  Turned  over  a  new  leaf.  Spanked  Cupid,  and 
turned  him  out  of  my  house.  Closed  the  books,  made  up 
my  accounts,  and  am  ready  to  submit  them  to  your  inspec- 
tion with  the  proper  vouchers.  Will  you  listen  ? 

DAM.     Certainly.  \Both  sit. 

JACK  {pulls  a  Russia  leather  pocket-book  from  his  pocket"). 
To  begin.  The  little  queen  of  Canterbury  was  a  charming 
creature.  The  proof  of  the  fact  is  contained  in  Exhibit  A  — 
her  portrait. 

DAM.   (takes  it}.     Extremely  pretty. 

JACK.  Eyes  of  heavenly  blue.  Tresses  of  raven  black- 
ness. Exhibit  B  —  tress  cf  raven  blackness  !  (Hands  over 
a  small  black  curl,  tied  with  pink  ribbon?) 

DAM.  (takes  if).     Well  ? 

JACK.  We  became  acquainted  on  a  beautiful  summer 
evening;  and  as  a  proof  of  her  maidenly  attachment,  she 
presented  me  with  a  rose.  Exhibit  C — remains  of  rose. 
(Hands  over  a  crushed  rosebud?) 

DAM.     Very  appropriate.     (Takes  //.) 

JACK.  When  we  pledged  our  undying  attachment,  she 
gave  me,  in  eternal  remembrance,  a  little  ring  of  twisted 
gold.  Exhibit  D.  (Takes  out  ring  and  polishes  it  on  his 
sleeve?)  Looks  like  gold,  doesn't  it? 


32          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac* 

DAM.     The  whole  thing  suggests  unmitigated  brass. 

JACK.  So  far  all  is  mere  trifling.  What  oppresses  me 
most  is  Exhibit  E.  (Draws  from  his  book  a  package  of  bills?) 
Take  them.  (Turns  away  as  he  hands  them  over,  and  put- 
his  hand  to  his  eyes.} 

DAM.     Unpaid  ?     {Looks  over  the  package?) 

JACK.  Mostly.  They  were  the  cause  of  our  separation. 
The  governor  refused  to  send  me  any  more  money.  It 
affected  her  so  deeply  that  she  wrote  to  me  that  we  must 
part ;  that  she  was  resolved  to  bury  herself  from  the  world. 
I  subsequently  learned  that  she  had  dyed  Exhibit  B  (takes 
up  curl}  as  yellow  as  Exhibit  D  (shows  ring)  and  was  playing 
Boccaccio  in  Dublin.  (Rises  ;  crosses  to  R.) 

DAM.  In  Dublin  ?  That  was  hard.  And  you  drove  her 
to  it  ?  [READ  Y  ANGELICA,  to  enter  R. 

JACK.  You  can  imagine  the  rest.  Remorse  drove  me  to 
New  York.  I  pawned  my  gold  watch  —  stop  a  minute  I 
Here's  the  ticket.  Exhibit  F  —  pawn-ticket  for  watch. 
{Shows  if,  then  replaces  it  and  the  rest  of  the  articles  in  th: 
pocket-book,  which  he  hands  to  DAMASK.)  And  then  I  went  on 
the  stage.  I  hadn't  a  particle  of  talent  for  it,  of  course,  but 
I  joined  a  bread-and-butter  company,  and  go  through  the 
country  for  my  board — when  I  can  get  it.  (Crosses  to  L.) 
But  now  I'm  sick  and  tired  of  the  whole  business.  I  wish 
to  go  home  like  the  Prodigal  and  ask  my  good-hearted  dad 
for  pardon.  So  far  he  has  sent  back  my  letters  unopened. 
But  he  thinks  the  world  of  you,  for  you  were  the  best  and 
soberest  of  all  my  college  friends.  So  if  you  will  only  write 
to  him  — 

DAM.  (taking  his  hand}.  Certainly.  I'll  do  it  at  once. 
I'll  send  him  all  these  documents  with  a  strong  personal 
letter,  and  if  you  will  add  a  few  lines  of  contrition  at  the 
end,  you'll  be  sure  of  forgiveness.  (Puts  the  articles  in  pocket- 
book^  and  locks  it  up  in  his  desk.}  [Both  rise. 

JACK.     I  saw  by  the  morning  paper  that  my  governor  has 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  BaUac.          33 

just  arrived  in  New  York,  so  we'll  set  about  it  to-day.     I'll 
get  the  name  of  his  hotel,  and  you  can  write  at  once  to  him. 
DAM.     To-day. 

ANGELICA  ENTERS  at  R. 

My  dear,  I'm  delighted  to  see  you  down.  Allow  me  — 
(introducing}  an  old  friend  of  my  college  days  ;  you've  often 
heard  me  speak  of  Jack  Mulberry. 

JACK.     Quite  so !     Charmed,  I'm  sure. 

ANGELICA  (crosses  to  c.,  politely).  An  old  friend  of  my 
husband's,  and  from  such  a  distance!  (Gives  her  hand?) 
Quite  interesting.  (Aside?)  His  chum  at  college.  {To  DAM- 
ASK.) My  love  —  (  with  a  sweet  smile). 

DAM.  (R.).     Yes,  dear. 

ANG.  I  left  my  Century  on  the  table  in  my  room ;  won't 
you  send  it  to  mamma  for  me  ? 

DAM.  Certainly,  my  love.  (To  JACK.)  See  you  in  a  few 
moments,  Jack.  (EXIT,  R.) 

ANG.  (aside).  He  shall  give  me  the  facts  about  my  gentle- 
man's past.  (Aloud?)  You  must  consider  our  house  your 
own  while  you  stay  here,  Mr.  Mulberr'y  My  husband  will 
want  to  talk  over  old  times  with  you.  (Sits  on  sofa,  R.) 

JACK.     Oh,  I  shall  be  delighted  —  but  — 

ANG.  (not  heeding).  Oh,  he  has  told  me  all  about  them. 
Such  stories  !  Such  adventures  —  well,  according  to  his 
own  account,  he  was  the  wildest  among  you. 

JACK  (aside).  Harry's  been  romancing  to  the  confiding 
soul. 

ANG.     I  suppose  he  led  you  off  now  and  then? 

JACK.  Well  —  yes  ;  that  is,  now  and  then.  Yes,  when  he 
didn't  go  it  too  strong. 

ANG.  Oh,  I  always  love  to  hear  him  tell  about  it.  Then 
he  didn't  exaggerate  when  he  told  me  he  was  dubbed  "  the 
heart-breaker." 

JACK  (aside).     Heart -breaker !     Poor  Harry.     Meek  as  a 


34          A  Night  Off  j  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

mouse.  If  she's  so  proud  of  it,  I  suppose  I'd  better  humoi 
the  fancy. 

ANG.     You  don't  answer. 

JACK  (L.,  of  table}.  Oh,  he  was  right.  His  adventures 
would  fill  volumes.  [READ  Y  DAMASK,  to  re-enter  R. 

ANG.  (rises ;  aside,  in  agony).  Oh,  heavens !  (Aloud.} 
Really  ?  I'm  so  glad.  I  thank  you  very  much  for  your  in- 
formation. (Gives  her  hand  and  turns  away.} 

JACK  (aside).  Something's  wrong  here.  I  think  I'd  bet- 
ter go  before  I  commit  Harry  further.  (Aloud.')  If  you  will 
permit  me  —  a  very  pressing  engagement.  (Gets  his  hat.} 

ANG.     Must  you  ? 

JACK.  I  must.  There's  no  telling  what  might  be  the 
consequences  if  I  didn't.  (Aside.}  She  looks  like  Cas- 
sandra !  (Aloud.)  Say  to  Harry  that  I'll  run  in  again 
presently. 

ANG.  (aside}.  He  did  have  a  past,  after  all !  (She  is  look- 
ing away  from  him  and  intently  at  door,  R.) 

JACK.  Eh?  Oh!  (Aside.)  The  lady  seems  to  be  holding 
an  animated  conversation  with  herself.  (Aloud.}  Just  say 
to  Harry  !  —  Eh  ?  —  Yes,  exactly !  —  Ahem  !  Good-morn- 
ing !  (EXITS  hurriedly,  c.  and  L.) 

ANG.  (to  and  fro  with  an  outburst}.  It  is  true,  then !  Now 
he  must  confess,  confess  all ! 

DAMASK  RE-ENTERS,  R. 

DAM.  (R.)-  Here's  the  magazine,  dear,  but  Maria  went  out 
for  me  and  hasn't  got  back  yet.  (Looks  around.}  Where's 
Jack? 

ANG.  (sternly).     Never  mind  Jack. 

DAM.  (looks  at  her).  What's  the  matter  ?  Because  I 
didn't  send  the  maga  — 

ANG.  Never  mind  the  magazine.  Couldn't  you  see  it 
was  a  pretext  to  get  rid  of  you  while  I  questioned  your 
friend  about  your  past  life  ?  (Crosses  to  R.) 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         35 

DAM.  (stares  at  her,  and  then  slams  the  magazine  down  in 
a  pet).  Well,  of  all  the  insanities  ! 

ANG.  Hush,  sir  !  You  would  tell  me  nothing.  I  had  to 
apply  to  him. 

DAM.  (mildly).  My  dear,  this  is  monomania.  You  are 
getting  in  a  very  bad  way.  I  thought  at  first  you  were  only 
joking,  but  now  — !  (Flings  himself  into  chair.) 

ANG.  At  first  I  was  only  joking,  but  I  thought  it  over  and 
over  last  night,  and  this  morning  it  has  become  a  sad  con- 
viction. (Goes  to  him  and  puts  her  hand  on  his  shoulder  lov- 
ingly^) If  you  would  only  understand  me.  I  am  not  so 
childish  as  to  be  jealous  of  your  past. 

\He  moves  chair  round  so  as  to  face  her,  and  regards 

her  with  a  puzzled  look. 

But  1  love  you  too  much  to  be  satisfied  with  the  part  some 
women  assume  towards  their  husbands'  inner  self. 

\_Jfe  rises. 

(She  places  her  arms  around  his  neck.}  I  wish  to  be  your 
friend,  your  confidante  !  And  it  is  therefore  my  right  to 
know  every  secret  of  your  heart !  (Sobbing.)  I  —  I  — 
never  conceal  anything  from  you. 

DAM.  (takes  her  hands  from  his  neck  and  holds  them). 
But  if  I  haven't  any  secrets  ? 

ANG.   (emotionally).     Harry !     Open  your  heart  to  me, 

DAM.     I  would  willingly  —  if  I  could. 

ANG.     O  Harry,  do  it !  \_He  impatiently  passes  her, 

I  have  watched  you  when  you  thought  you  were  alone. 
Have  seen  you  gazing  into  vacancy 

[ffe  turns  away  his  head  to  conceal  his  amusement. 
as  if  some  dark  memory  oppressed  you.  Just  as  you  look 
now.  [He  shakes  with  silent  laughter, 

You  are  moved  ;  I  see,  I  feel  it.  Oh,  it  is  impossible  that 
the  life  of  a  man  like  you  should  never  have  been  stirred  by 
the  upheaval  of  some  volcanic  passion.  Tell  me,  tell  me, 
—  please  do.  (Falls  on  his  neck.) 


36          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

DAM.  (turns  his  face  to  her  with  affected  solemnity).  Will 
you  promise,  solemnly  promise,  never  to  revert  to  the  topic 
again,  if  I  comply  with  your  wish  ? 

ANG.     I  promise  solemnly. 

DAM.  On  that  condition  I  will  tell  you  —  the  story. 
(Crosses  to  L.) 

ANG.  (breathless).     Yes,  yes  ! 

DAM.  (looks  at  her).     And  you  will  forgive  me  everything? 

ANG.     Everything. 

DAM.  Well,  then  !  (He  goes  to  his  desk,  c.,  and  unlocks 
his  drawer.  She  sinks  into  chair  near  by,  riveted.  He  takes 
out  JACK'S  pocket-book}  Listen. 

ANG.  (aside).     At  last ! 

DAM.  (after  a  moment's  pause,  and  holding  the  pocket-book 
in  his  hand}.  While  I  was  a  student  at  Leipzig,  I  ran  on 
now  and  then  to  Paris,  and  plunged  into  the  gayeties  of  the 
capital.  I  was  a  constant  attendant  at  the  cafe's  chantants 
in  the  Champs-filysees. 

ANG.  (delighted}.  Now  you  see,  you  never  told  me  that 
before.  (Jumps  up  and  kisses  him?)  Oh,  you  darling  !  (Sits 
L.  of  table?) 

DAM.  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  one  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished prima  donnas  of  the  period.  Here  is  the  picture. 
(Takes photo  out  of  the  book  and  hands  it  to  her.) 

ANG.  (looks  at  it,  sets  her  lips  firmly,  stiffens  up,  sighs, 
shakes  her  head,  and  then  in  low  tone).  And  you  loved 
her? 

DAM.  To  distraction  !  She  gave  me  a  rose.  This  one  ! 
(Hands  it  over.  ANGELICA  lets  her  hands  fall  in  her  lap  con- 
templatively} And  when  I  passionately  asked  her  for 
greater  proofs  of  affection,  she  cut  off  a  tress  of  her  silken 
hair.  Take  it ! 

ANG.  (takes  it;  eyes  it  critically,  holding  it  up  daintily). 
Well  ? 

DAM.     Yes,  there  is  more  to  come.     In  the  intoxication 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         37 

of  my  wild  infatuation,  I  gave  her  a  gold  ring  (ANGELICA 
starts)  ;  but  I  got  it  back  again.     Here  it  is. 

ANG.  (taking  if).  Of  course  you  smothered  her  with 
presents  ? 

DAM.     Oh,  awfully ! 

\READ  Y  NISBE  and  MRS.  BABBITT,  to  enter  c.from  L. 

ANG.     And  ran  madly  into  debt  ? 

DAM.  Unfortunately  1  Here  are  the  bills.  (Gives  Mem.) 
Mostly  unpaid.  Finally  I  pawned  my  grandfather's  watch. 
Here's  the  ticket.  (Gives  it  and  rises.)  And  now  you  know 
all! 

ANG.  (rises,  reflectively).  And  this  happened  (counts  on 
her  fingers')  five  years  ago.  Does  it  worry  you  now  ?  (Puts 
all  the  things  back  into  pocket-book  and  lays  book  on  table.) 

DAM.  (sighs).     It  does  oppress  me.     But  gone  is  gone. 

ANG.  (comes  to  him).  And  the  sequel  ?  (Lays  her  head  on 
his  shoulder?) 

DAM.     Haven't  you  got  enough? 

ANG.     What  became  of  her  ? 

DAM.     Poor  girl  1     She  took  the  veil.     (Crosses  to  L.) 

ANG.     And  her  relatives  ;  had  she  nobody  ? 

DAM.  {puzzled,  scratches  his  head).     Oh,  yes.     An  uncle. 

ANG.  (R.,  stepping  back  a  step).  He  called  you  to  account  5 
He  challenged  you  ! 

DAM.  Oh,  yes ;  he  gave  me  no  end  of  trouble.  He  was 
bloodthirsty  to  a  degree. 

ANG.  And  you  have  borne  all  this  in  silence  so  long! 
Harry,  I  love  you !  {Throws  her  arms  about  him.)  I  wor- 
ship you ! 

NISBE  ENTERS  c.,from  L.,  sees  the  picture,  laughs  and 
calls  off. 

NISBE.     Mamma  !     Hurry  !     A  picture  of  domestic  bliss. 

MRS.  BABBITT  ENTERS  c.,from  L. 
MRS.  BABBITT  (L.).    What  is  it  ? 


38          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

DAM.  (aside  to  ANGELICA,  as  she  starts  away).  Don't  tell 
your  mother  a  word  of  all  this. 

ANG.  Never  1  (Goes  to  MRS.  BABBITT  as  DAMASK  greets 
NISBE.)  O  mamma,  I'm  so  delighted  to  see  you  !  (Draws 
her  down  and  impressively,  aside.}  Come  to  my  room  !  I've 
something  most  important  to  tell  you. 

MRS.  B.  (same).     Very  well !     (They  separated) 

DAM.  (crosses  to  MRS.  BABBITT).  Well,  mamma  ?  Was  I 
not  right  to  advise  the  Springs  ?  You  look  ten  years  younger. 

MRS.  B.  (L.)  You're  more  of  a  flatterer  than  a  physician, 
I'm  afraid.  I'm  not  at  all  well. 

DAM.     Dear  me  !     (Talks  with  her.) 

ANG.  (up  R.  c.  to  NISBE).  Keep  Harry  here,  while  I  take 
mamma  to  my  room. 

Nis.     I  understand.     (Takes  off  her  hat,  etc.) 

MRS.  B.  (crosses  to  L.  C.,  up  stage).  Angelica,  how's  your 
parrot  ? 

ANG.  He's  in  my  room.  He's  learned  ever  so  many 
words  since  you  were  here  last. 

DAM.  Yes ;  picked  them  up  from  us  !  He  says  "  kiss  me, 
darling,"  all  day  long.  He  got  that  from  Angelica. 

Nis.     Oh,  I  must  hear  him  say  that ! 

ANG.  (aside  to  her).  Stay  where  you  are  !  (Aloud) 
Come,  mamma. 

Nis.  (crosses  to  DAMASK).  I  want  to  hear  him  say  "kiss 
me,  darling." 

DAM.  (crosses  to  R.  c.,  darting  to  door).    I'll  fetch  him. 

ANG.  (takes  up  pocket-book  from  table,  c).  What  for?  We 
can  go  to  him  just  as  well.  (Motions  to  NISBE.)  Come, 
mamma.  (R.,  EXITS  quickly,  with  MRS.  BABBITT.) 

DAM.     We'll  all  go  !  [NISBE  detains  him. 

Nis.  O  Harry  I  I  want  to  ask  you  something.  (He 
turns  at  the  door.  She  goes  to  him) 

DAM.  Not  just  yet !  (Aside)  I  think  I  hear  them  going 
over  Exhibit  A  now ! 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         39 

Nis.  (L.,  linking  his  arm).     Yes,  yes.     It's  very  important. 

DAM.     Do  be  quick  as  possible,  then.     (Glares  off,  R.) 

Nis.  (brings  him  down).  Since  our  return  from  the 
Springs,  I've  had  several  strange  attacks. 

DAM.  Yes,  yes  ;  all  right.  (Aside,  looking  R.)  She's  tell- 
ing her  mother  everything. 

Nis.  (lets  go  his  ami).     You're  not  listening  ! 

DAM.     Yes,  I  am  ;  go  on  ! 

Nis.  (extending  her  arm).  Feel  my  pulse.  Don't  you 
notice  anything  ? 

DAM.  (looking  off  R.,  and  grasping  her  thumb  by  mistake). 
No. 

Nis.  (draws  thumb  away  indignantly).  After  I  get  up  in 
the  morning  and  have  my  breakfast  —  (.gulps). 

DAM.     Well,  what  then  ? 

Nis.  Then  there's  nothing.  But  after  breakfast  I  go  out 
for  a  walk  for  about  half  an  hour. 

DAM.  Well,  if  walking  for  half  an  hour  doesn't  agree 
with  you,  stay  at  home  for  half  an  hour. 

Nis.     But  it  does  agree  with  me. 

\READ  Y  JACK,  with  note,  to  enter  c.  from  L. 

DAM.     All  right,  go  then.     (Going.) 

Nis.  (holding  him  back).  But  something  strange  happened 
in  my  walk  this  morning.  I  saw  some  roses  — 

DAM.  (aside).  Roses !  Exhibit  C.  (Aloud.)  Let  me  go. 
I  must  see  Angelica. 

Nis.  (holds  him).  Near  the  roses  stood  a  young  man  ! 
(DAMASK  turns  and  looks  at  her.)  I  didn't  take  any  notice  of 
him  (gulps)  ;  but  at  the  mere  sight  of  the  roses,  I  suddenly 
grew  dizzy,  my  heart  began  to  palpitate,  everything  grew 
black,  as  if  I  were  going  to  faint.  (Sinks  into  chair.) 

DAM.     Faint  I     I'll  get  you  something !     (Darts  off,  R.  D.) 

Nis.  No,  no  ;  stay  here !  It's  coming  over  me  again. 
Oh!  Oh!  (Sinks  in  chair,  pretending  to  faint.  Short  pause. 
Looks  up  cautiously  and,  finding  herself  alone,  bounds  up.) 


40          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

He  got  away  after  all!  Well,  I  did  the  best  I  could  for 
Angy.  The  heartless  monster,  to  leave  me  in  a  fainting 
condition.  [JACK  coughs  outside, 

(Listens.)  No,  he's  coming  back.  Now  I'll  give  him  a 
swoon  as  is  a  swoon.  (Throws  herself  in  a  chair,  closes  her 
eyes  and  groans?)  Oh!  Oh!  Oh! 

JACK  ENTERS  c.from  L.,  with  a  note. 

JACK.  I've  jotted  down  a  few  more  points  for  Harry,  in 
writing  his  letter.  (Sees  NISBE.)  What's  that  ?  A  young 
lady  !  Seems  to  be  ill. 

Nis.  (her  eyes  still  closed,  rolls  her  head  languidly).  Oh ! 
Oh! 

JACK  (looks  around}.  If  I  could  find  the  cologne.  (Sees 
an  atomizer  on  the  table?)  Here's  something.  (Takes  it  up 
and  squeezes  the  cologne  over  her  face} 

Nis.  (groans  feebly,  with  her  eyes  still  closed}  Oh,  how  re- 
freshing !  Do  it  some  more. 

JACK  (aside).     By  Jove  !  she's  pretty.     (Repeats  bus} 

Nis.  (same).     Bathe  my  forehead. 

JACK  (R.,  looks  around).  Where  is  the  water?  (Not find- 
ing it,  resumes  the  atomizer} 

Nis.     That's  it.     Now  a  little  back  of  my  ear ! 

[JACK  obeys. 
Oh,  how  reviving  ! 

JACK  (aloud,  suddenly}.     Do  you  feel  better  now? 

Nis.  (opens  her  eyes  suddenly,  then  starts  up}.  A  stranger  ! 
Heavens ! 

JACK.  Pardon  me,  if  I  startled  you ;  but  I  thought  it  my 
duty  to  come  to  your  assistance. 

Nis.  I'm  so  much  obliged!  But  I  —  I  —  I  thought  it 
was  my  brother-in-law. 

JACK.  I  am  too  happy  in  having  arrived  at  the  right 
moment,  especially  as  my  medical  knowledge  —  (uncon- 
sciously squeezes  the  atomizer,  and  gets  the  cologne  in  his  eyes}. 


A  Ni^ht  Off  j  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         4J 

Nis.  (L.).     Are  you  a  doctor,  too  ? 

JACK.  Not  exactly.  But  I  studied  medicine  for  one  term 
with  my  friend  Harry.  My  name  is  Jack  Mulberry. 

Nis.     Dr.  Damask  is  my  brother-in-law. 

JACK.  Then  I  have  the  pleasure  of  addressing  the  Pro- 
fessor's daughter. 

Nis.  (guickly).  Yes;  but  don't  tell  papa  of  my  fainting, 
please. 

JACK.  I  wouldn't  dream  of  it  for  the  world.  Besides,  I 
perceived  at  once  you  were  merely  practising  a  little  decep^ 
tion  on  somebody. 

Nis.  (severely).     Practising  a  deception  ? 

JACK.     Of  course.     You  recovered  too  suddenly. 

Nis.  Allow  me  —  it  was  very  serious.  I  have  these  at 
tacks  repeatedly.  (Crosses  to  R.) 

JACK  (aside).     The  little  fibber! 

Nis.  If  you  understand  anything  about  medicine,  you 
must  perceive  that  I  have  a  fever.  Be  kind  enough  to  feel 
my  pulse.  (She  holds  out  her  hand,  the  thumb  uppermost. 
As  JACK  advances  to  feel  her  pulse,  she  turns  her  thumb  down?) 

JACK.  Certainly,  a  very  strong  fever !  (Aside.)  Not  a 
trace. 

Nis.  (triumphantly).     There  now  ! 

JACK.  I  offer  my  humblest  apologies.  I  begin  to  see 
your  case  clearly.  Before  these  attacks  come  on  you  have  a 
buzzing  in  your  ears  ?  \She  nods. 

A  mist  comes  over  your  eyes?  {She  nods. 

Hammering  in  your  head  ?  [Same  bus. 

Twitching  sensation  in  your  hands  ?  [Same  bus. 

One  foot  cold  as  ice,  the  other  burning  hot? 

Nis.  (R.).     Yes,  yes.     What  do  you  advise  ? 

JACK.     You  wish  to  know  ? 

Nis.     Yes  ;  I'm  prepared  for  anything. 

JACK.  Well,  then,  I  advise  you  to  invent  some  othei 
illness. 


42          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  BaUac. 

Nis.  (indignantly).     What  ? 

JACK.  Or  devote  more  care  to  the  statement  of  your 
symptoms. 

Nis.     Do  you  mean  to  — 

JACK.  I  mean  to  say  that  the  condition  you  described 
never  existed,  except  in  the  imagination. 

Nis.  You  should  have  taken  another  course  of  lessons, 
Doctor.  (Crosses  to  L.)  You  never  got  as  far  as  my  com- 
plaint. (  Very  sarcastically^) 

JACK  (cheerfully).  Possibly;  possibly.  And  I  never  re- 
gretted so  much  as  now  that  I  rejected  science  to  go  on  the 
stage. 

Nis.     Are  you  an  actor  ? 

JACK.  Well,  some  people  think  I'm  not.  Fact  is,  I 
merely  imagined  I  could  be  one.  Having  discovered  my 
mistake,  I  give  it  up  cheerfully.  My  last  appearance  will  be 
as  Cassius,  a  young  Roman,  in  your  father's  tragedy. 

Nis.     Father's  tragedy  !     Papa  has  written  a  tragedy  ? 

JACK  (aside).    She  doesn't  know  it.    How  awkward  of  me ! 

Nis.     And  it's  going  to  be  produced  ? 

JACK.     I  ought  not  to  have  mentioned  it. 

Nis.  Oh,  yes,  you  ought,  and  you  must  tell  me  all  about 
it.  I'm  burning  to  know. 

JACK.  No,  no  !  We  are  pledged  to  secrecy,  and  it  slipped 
out.  {Mutters  to  himself,  aside.) 

Nis.  (aside).  More  mystery  about  papa.  That  accounts 
for  the  portrait  and  the  soda  water  at  the  Opera  House. 

JACK.  Now  I  think  of  it,  the  piece  is  not  by  your  father, 
but  by  some  other  professor's  daughter's  father.  I  got  the 
names  confused. 

Nis.  (aside).  I  do  believe  he  can  fib  like  a  girl.  We'll  see. 
(Aloud.)  Oh,  yes  ;  I  know  what  you  mean  now.  It's  that  old 
tragedy  they  found  in  the  college  library.  (Eyes  him  keenly) 

JACK.  Oh,  yes ;  found  in  an  old  chest  in  the  cellar.  Yes, 
that's  the  very  one. 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac,         43 

Nis.  The  plot  is  all  about  the  persecutions  of  the  early 
Christians,  under  Numa  Pompilius. 

[READ  Y  PROFESSOR,  to  enter  c.from  L. 

JACK.  You've  got  it;  I  play  Cassius.  I'm  an  early  Chris- 
tian ;  they  persecute  me.  But  don't  tell  your  papa.  Promise 
me. 

Nis.  No,  I  won't.  But  you  must  promise  me  something, 
too. 

JACK.     With  pleasure.     What  ? 

Nis.     Invent  some  other  plot  for  your  next  tragedy. 

JACK.     What  ? 

Nis.  Or  pay  more  attention  to  your  historical  dates.  Just 
imagine  !  Persecutions  of  the  Christians  under  Numa  Pom- 
pilius !  Why  he  died  seven  hundred  years  before  the  Chris- 
tian Era  !  (Crosses  to  R.) 

JACK.  Horrible  !  I  forgot  I  was  talking  to  a  professor's 
daughter.  I  apologize  again.  Seems  to  me,  I'm  always  apol- 
ogizing. 

Nis.     Don't  worry.    We're  quits  now  for  my  fainting  spell. 

JACK.     And  I'm  forgiven? 

Nis.     Fully. 

JACK.     Oh,  thanks  1     (He  is  about  to  take  her  hand  when) 

The  PROFESSOR  ENTERS,  c.  from  L. 

The  author  of  her  being  and  of  the  play  1 

PROFESSOR  (aside}.  Our  leading  juvenile  1  (Aloud.)  What 
are  you  doing  here  ? 

JACK.     I  —  I  —  have  a  letter  for  Dr.  Damask. 

PROF.  Indeed  !  (Suspiciously.)  I  wonder  if  these  fellows 
make  love  off  the  stage  as  well  as  they  do  on  it  ? 

Nis.  (R.  with  composure).  My  brother-in-law  is  in  the  next 
room. 

JACK.  Is  he?  Well,  then,  I'll  take  my  leave.  (Bows, 
going,  aside.)  She's  lovely  and  she's  clever  1  My  first  en- 
counter with  one  of  the  institutions  of  the  country  —  an 


44          A  Night  Off ;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

American  girl!     I  hope  I'll  see   more  of   it.     (EXITS,  c 
and  L.) 

Nis.  (R.,  brings  PROFESSOR  down}.  Papa,  I  think  it's  very 
unfair  to  have  secrets  from  me  ! 

PROF.     What  secrets  ? 

Nis.     You  know  I  always  stand  by  you. 

PROF,  (softens).     Well,  then  ? 

Nis.  (mysteriously).  I  know  all !  You  have  written  a 
tragedy. 

PROF.  For  goodness'  sake,  not  so  loud.  (Crosses  to  R.)  If 
your  mother  should  hear !  (Piteously.}  Only  think,  she  hasn't 
spoken  a  kind  word  to  me  since  she  got  back  from  the  Springs. 

Nis.  (solemnly).  How  did  we  find  you  when  we  did  get 
back? 

PROF.     Has  she  spoken  to  you  about  it  ? 

Nis.     Not  a  syllable. 

PROF.  She's  a  dreadfully  uncomfortable  woman.  She 
keeps  things  for  days,  leaves  you  in  an  awful  state  of  appre- 
hension, and  then  springs  at  you  when  you  least  expect  it. 
Do  me  one  favor.  Don't  leave  me  alone  with  her  any  more 
than  you  possibly  can. 

[READY  MRS.  BABBITT,  with  Docket-book,  etc.,  to 
enter  R.  D. 

Nis.  (in  thought).     Papa,  is  Cassius  a  nice  part  ? 

PROF.  Cassius  ?  Oh !  (Brightening.}  Of  course  he  is. 
He's  the  hero.  Has  a  magnificent  love  scene  in  the  second 
act.  Stabs  himself  in  the  third. 

Nis.     Doesn't  he  come  in  after  the  third  act? 

PROF.  How  can  he,  after  stabbing  himself?  (Crosses 
to  L.) 

Nis.  (R.).  I  think  the  interest  will  flag  then.  It's  a  great 
pity. 

PROF.  No,  it  won't.  (Rubs  his  hands.}  I  saw  the  rehearsal 
this  morning. 

Nis.     How  did  you  like  it  ? 


A  Night  Off ;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         45 

PROF.  I  don't  know.  I  was  so  excited,  it  seemed  like  a 
dream. 

Nis.     Aren't  you  awfully  nervous  ? 

PROF.     I  didn't  sleep  a  wink  last  night. 

Nis.     Tell  me,  papa,  whom  does  Cassius  make  love  to  ? 

MRS.  BABBITT  ENTERS,  R.  D.,  carrying  the  pocket-book  and 
bills  in  her  hand.     The  PROFESSOR  avoids  her. 

PROF.     Sh !     Here's  your  mother. 

MRS.  B.  Nisbe  !  (Icy  tones  as  she  sees  the  PROFESSOR.) 
Oh  !  you're  there  ? 

PROF,  (crosses,  yet  avoiding  her  eye).  Yes,  my  love  ;  you  see 
I  couldn't  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  calling  for  you. 

MRS.  B.  Indeed  !  Nisbe,  go  to  your  sister.  She  wants 
you. 

Nis.  (crosses  to  the  PROFESSOR,  who  has  gesticulated  vio- 
lently— pantomiming  her  to  stay).  O  mamma,  just  as  I  was 
having  such  a  nice  talk  with  papa,  whom  I  haven't  seen  for  so 
long  ! 

PROF.  No,  we  haven't  seen  each  other  for  so  long. 
{Continues  his  motions?) 

MRS.  B.  (L.,  to  NISBE  icily).  I  wish  to  speak  with  your 
father  alone !  (Sits  L.) 

PROF.  That  settles  it.  (Sinks  into  chair  R.  of  table.) 
Now  for  it! 

Nis.  (aside).  Poor  papa!  (Going,  and  aside  to  him.) 
Cheer  up  !  (EXITS,  R.  D.) 

PROF,  (aside,  as  MRS.  BABBITT  turns  on  him).  The  jug- 
gernaut approaches. 

MRS.  B.  (L.).  You  are  aware,  Mr.  Babbitt,  that  you  owe 
me  some  explanations  ? 

PROF,  (rises,  confidently,  clearing  his  throat).  I'm  quite 
ready,  my  dear. 

MRS.  B.  (repressing  him  by  an  imperious  wave  of  the  hand). 
You  are  quite  ready  with  a  tissue  of  inventions,  no  doubt 


46          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

PROF.     Now,  my  darling  — 

MRS.  B.  I  spare  you  the  trouble.  There  is  something, 
unfortunately,  of  graver  importance.  I  must  have  at  least 
five  hundred  dollars. 

PROF.     Five  hundred  dollars  !     (Aghast.') 

MRS.  B.     At  once. 

PROF.     Will  you  please  explain  ? 

MRS.  B.  No.  I  forego  explanations  from  you,  and  re- 
serve all  on  my  own  part.  Get  me  the  money;  the  matter 
admits  of  no  delay.  (Crosses  to  R.) 

PROF.     But  where  am  I  to  get  it  ? 

MRS.  B.     Take  it  out  of  Nisbe's  money. 

PROF,  (aside).  And  I've  just  borrowed  from  Nisbe's 
money  to  meet  some  expenses  at  the  — 

\_READ  Y  ANGELICA  and  DAMASK,  to  enter  R. 

MRS.  B.     What  are  you  saying  ? 

PROF.  (L.).  You  wouldn't  have  me  touch  the  child's 
pittance  ? 

MRS.  B.  We  can  save  up  and  replace  it  in  a  year.  Give 
me  the  key  of  the  safe. 

PROF,  (aside).     She'll  find  I've  been  there  already. 

MRS.  B.     Well ! 

PROF.  The  fact  is,  my  darling,  I've  just  had  to  call  in 
her  investment,  and  happen  to  have  the  money  with  me.  I 
just  got  it  from  the  bank.  (Fumbles  in  his  pocket?) 

MRS.  B.     All  the  better.     (Holds  out  her  hand.) 

PROF,  (takes  out  pocket-book  and  produces  a  single  bank-bill). 
My  beautiful  fresh  greenback  !  (Hands  it.) 

MRS.  B.  (snatching  it).  Five  hundred  dollars  all  in  one 
bill  1  (Examines  it.) 

PROF.  Yes.  You  nearly  made  it  in  two.  That's  how 
it  goes  so  easily.  (Aside.)  My  last  cent,  and  to-morrow  the 
first  of  the  month. 

ANGELICA  and  DAMASK  ENTER,  R.     He  is  sulky  and  keeps 
his  hands  in  his  pockets.     She  is  clinging  to  one  arm  sweetly. 


A  Nteht  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         47 

ANG.  (aside  to  DAMASK  as  they  enter).     Will  you  see  that 
my  telling  her  was  all  for  the  best  ? 

DAM.  (L.  c.).     Good-morning,  Professor!     (Struck  by  his 
dejected air •.)     You  don't  look  well.     Anything  the  matter? 
[PROFESSOR  stretches  out  his  hand  gloomily  to  shake. 
DAMASK  takes  hold  of  his  pulse  and  pulls  out  his 
watch   to   count.      PROFESSOR   snatches   his  hand 
away.     DAMASK   shrugs   his  shoulders   and  they 
separate. 

MRS.  B.  (draws  ANGELICA  down  front  and  gives  her  the 
}>ank-note  and  the  pocket-book  cautiously).     There  are  five  hun- 
dred dollars  to  pay  your  husband's  sinful  debts. 
ANG.  (gushingly).     O  mamma  ! 
MRS.  B.     No  thanks.     Thank  goodness,  I  had  it. 
ANG.     O  mamma,  how  good  you  are  !     (Tries  to  embrace 
her.} 

MRS.  B.   (draws  back}.     Hush  !     (Crosses  to  PROFESSOR.) 
Are  you  going  to  be  at  home  this  evening,  Mr.  Babbitt  ? 
PROF,   (injured  tone  and  look).     Do  I  ever  go  out  ? 
MRS.  B.     Yes  —  for  soda  water. 

\_He  retires  up  stage.  She  follows  him. 
ANG.  (R.  Beckons  DAMASK  down  to  her.  Gives  him  the 
pocket-book  and  the  bank-bill).  Now  you  see  how  much  better 
it  was  to  confess  everything  to  me.  There  are  five  hundred 
dollars  !  Pay  those  dreadful  debts  and  close  the  transac- 
tion forever ! 

DAM.   (surprised and  amused}.     What  ?  five  hun  — 
ANG.  (cautiously).     Hush!     It's  a  little  torn,  but  — 
DAM.     You  are  an  angel !     (Tries  to  embrace  her} 

[She  draws  back,  her  fingers  to  her  lips,  and  joins  her 
mother.  They  hurry  off,  R.,  in  animated  conver- 
sation. 

ANG.     Come,  mamma !     Nisbe's   waiting.     (EXIT  with 
MRS.  BABBITT,  R.  D.) 

DAM.  (looks  at  bank-note).     Providence  takes  car*  of  its 


48          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

own!  (Pockets  money,  and  locks  pocket-book  in  drawer?)  If  it 
pays  as  well  as  this,  I'll  tell  her  a  few  more  anecdotes  of  my 
past  life.  {Sits  R.  of  table?) 

PROF,  (who  has  walked  the  stage  dolefully,  stops  and  eyes 
DAMASK).  Shall  I  try  and  raise  the  money  from  my  son-in- 
law?  He  never  seems  to  have  any  surplus  change,  but  here 
goes.  (Comes  down?)  Will  you  have  a  cigar,  Harry  ?  I  just 
bought  some.  (Takes  a  paper  parcel  from  his  pocket,  imwraps 
it,  and  produces  two  cigars.') 

DAM.  The  poor  old  gentleman's  favorite  —  Key  Wests ! 
I  couldn't  rob  you,  sir  ;  smoke  one  with  me.  (Offers  cigars 
from  case?) 

PROF.  I  dare  say  yours  are  the  best.  (  Wraps  his  own  up 
again,  and  pockets  them.  Takes  a  cigar  from  DAMASK,  and  gets 
a  match  from  his  pocket  as  DAMASK  takes  out  his  match-case?) 
No,  no ;  I'll  furnish  the  matches.  Fair  play,  you  know. 

[They  light.    PROFESSOR  holding  the  match,  burns  his 
fingers.     He  eyes  DAMASK. 

DAM.     You  don't  smoke  ! 

[READ  Y  SNAP,  to  enter  c.from  L, 

PROF.  The  fact  is,  Harry,  I'm  in  a  little  trouble.  I  want 
to  ask  a  favor  of  you. 

DAM.     Certainly,  sir;  what  is  it? 

PROF.  Could  you  help  me  out  with  a  little  money  for  a 
few  months  ? 

DAM.  (smoking).     With  pleasure. 

PROF,  (delighted}.     Really? 

DAM.  (feeling  in  his  pocket).     How  much  ? 

PROF.     It's  a  very  large  sum. 

DAM.  Don't  hesitate  to  name  it.  Anything  in  reason. 
(Stage,  R.) 

PROF,  (gasping}.    Five  —  hundred  —  dollars  1 

DAM.  (coolly).  Mere  trifle.  (Turns  half  away,  unfolds  bank- 
vote,  while  the  PROFESSOR  looks  on  excitedly.}  Here  you  are. 

PROF.     Harry,  you're  a  noble  fellow. 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Pag«  from  Balzac.          49 

DAM.  You  don't  mind  its  being  in  one  bill,  I  suppose  ? 
(Hands  it  over.) 

PROF,  (crosses  to  R.).  One  bill !  (Opens  it.  Aside.)  My 
bill  1  He  swindled  it  out  of  my  wife,  the  young  robber. 
(Pockets  it.)  Well,  he'll  never  get  that  back  again. 

SNAP  ENTERS,  hurriedly,  at  back.    Sees  the  PROFESSOR,  and 
comes  forward. 

SNAP.  Thank  goodness,  I've  found  you  at  las*!  I've 
come  straight  from  your  house.  (Puts  down  his  hat  and  pro- 
duces MSS.  of  the  play.*) 

PROF.  (R.,  alarmed}.  What  do  you  want  here  ?  Go  away  ! 
(Points  vigorously  to  DAMASK.) 

DAM.  (smoking).  Ah,  Snap !  (20  PROFESSOR.)  I  hope 
you're  not  to  back  up  Snap  with  my  five  hundred. 

SNAP  (smiling  to  DAMASK).  How  d'ye  do,  sir?  (To  PRO- 
FESSOR.) Oh,  I  made  the  doctor's  acquaintance  this  morn- 
ing. He  took  two  seats  for  the  opening.  (Crossing  to  c., 
inquiringly,  half  aside}  Does  he  know? 

PROF,   (important).     No,  he  does  not. 

DAM.  (L.).     But  he'd  be  glad  to.     What  is  it  ? 

[SNAP  puts  his  finger  beside  his  nose. 

PROF,  (crosses  to  c.  To  DAMASK,  hurriedly).  I  rely  on  your 
discretion.  He  comes  about  my  play  —  my  tragedy;  it's  go- 
ing to  be  played —  in  the  strictest  confidence. 

DAM.    By  Jove!    Good!    I  admire  your  pluck,  dad-in-law. 

PROF,  (to  SNAP).  Now,  what  is  it?  You  had  no  business 
to  come  here.  My  wife  may  be  in  at  any  moment. 

SNAP.  Oh,  if  we're  caught,  we  can  pass  it  off  with  a  little 
presence  of  mind.  Say  that  I'm  an  old  friend  of  yours,  or  a 
stranger  visiting  the  university. 

DAM.  I  think,  on  the  whole,  we'd  better  not  rely  on  our 
presence  of  mind.  Your  absence  of  body  would  be  better. 

PROF,  (nervously).     But  what  do  you  want  ? 

SNAP  (recalled  to    business).     OH,    just    so!      (.Opens   the 


50          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac, 

AfSS.)  It's  about  the  part  of  Tullia,  the  female  slave,  you 
know.  We  haven't  a  soul  to  play  it. 

PROF.  (R.).  No  one  to  play  Tullia  1  Why,  she's  one  of 
the  principal  parts  of  the  piece.  She  gives  it  its  name. 
She's  the  Beautiful  Sabine  1  What's  to  be  done  ? 

SNAP.  I've  talked  it  over  with  my  wife.  That  woman  is 
invaluable  for  expedients.  You  couldn't  corner  that  woman 
if  you  were  Shakespeare  himself.  She  found  a  way  out  of 
the  difficulty  immediately.  Instead  of  Tullia,  a  female  slave, 
we  make  it  Tullius,  a  male  slave,  and  there  you  are. 

PROF.  It's  impossible  !  (Crosses  to  c.)  I  can't  make  her 
a  male  slave.  Remember  her  soliloquy  in  the  first  act :  "  Ah, 
that  I  were  a  —  that  I  were  a  —  man ! "  You  can't  have  a  man 
speak  that. 

SNAP  (R.,  puzzled).  True  1  The  subtle  significance  of  the 
aspiration  would  be  lost. 

PROF.     Well,  then  —  ? 

SNAP.  Well,  then,  if  we  can't  make  her  a  man,  and  we 
haven't  got  a  woman,  there's  only  one  thing  left.  We  make 
it  a  child  —  see  ?  "  Oh,  that  I  were  —  that  I  were  a  — 
man  1 "  which  he  isn't,  and  there  you  are. 

PROF.  A  child !  No,  I  won't  submit  to  have  the  part  cut 
down  like  that. 

SNAP.  It'll  add  to  the  piece  immensely.  My  youngest  boy, 
Tom,  will  take  the  part,  and  make  it  the  hit  of  the  perform- 
ance. 

PROF.    You  really  think  it  would  do  ? 

SNAP.  I  should  say  so.  That  child  of  mine  is  a  born  gen- 
ius. Just  go  over  the  lines,  won't  you,  and  cut  out  the  long 
words.  I've  brought  the  book. 

PROF.     You  want  me  to  alter  all  the  part  on  the  spot  ? 

SNAP.     Must.     We  rehearse  again  to-night. 

PROF.  Then  come  with  me.  Harry,  keep  everybody  out 
of  this  room.  (EXITS,  L.  D.,  with  MSS.) 

SNAP.     Very  good,  Professor.     (Sees  him  ojf  and  returtis^ 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.          5\ 

By  the  way,  Doctor,  my  wife's  heard  about  your  wife's  parrot, 
and  she's  dying  to  bring  it  on  in  "The  Beautiful  Sabine." 

DAM.   (L.).    Is  there  a  parrot  in  the  play  ? 

SNAP.  No,  no  ;  but  the  second  act  is  set  in  a  grove  of 
pines,  and  she  thought  it  would  look  realistic  to  have  the 
parrot  discovered  on  one  of  the  pine-trees.  Bit  of  realism 
—  see  ?  These  things  take  immensely. 

DAM.     Have  you  got  a  pine-tree  ? 

SNAP.  Not  exactly  a  pine-tree,  but  my  wife  has  hit  on  a 
capital  substitute.  She  saw  an  orange  plant  in  a  tub  at  the 
drug  store,  and  got  the  loan  of  it  for  the  run  of  the  play. 
We  give  the  druggist  a  line  on  the  bills  for  its  use.  Just 
fancy,  a  live  parrot  on  a  real  orange-tree.  The  audience 
would  be  transported  to  Rome  in  an  instant. 

DAM.  Why,  old  man,  you're  going  to  make  a  regular 
spectacle  of  it.  How  about  your  costumes?  Got  a  full 
Roman  wardrobe  ? 

SNAP.  I  should  say  so.  My  wife  made  'em  all  for  the 
"  La  Belle  Helene."  (Crosses  to  L.,  stops  and  rubs  his  ear.) 
There  was  a  hitch  though  at  one  time.  We  hadn't  anything 
for  the  Sabine  warriors  to  wear. 

DAM.     And  how  did  you  manage  ? 

SNAP.  My  wife  did  it.  When  we  went  to  sleep  last 
night,  there  were  all  the  Sabine  warriors  before  our  minds' 
eye  without  a  rag  on.  In  the  middle  of  the  night,  just  as 
I  was  dreaming  of  the  hundredth  performance  of  the  piece, 
she  gave  a  scream  that  nearly  threw  me  out  of  bed.  "  I 
have  it !  "  she  cried ;  and  she  had.  We  are  going  to  have  a 
company  of  firemen  for  the  Sabine  army,  you  know.  Well, 
we  make  them  wear  their  red  shirts  outside,  with  tights,  and 
there  you  are. 

[READ  Y  MRS.  BABBITT,  to  RE-ENTER  R.  D. 

DAM.  (throws  himself  into  chair,  laughing).  Ha  I  ha  !  ha  I 
The  Sabine  army  in  red  shirts  ! 

SNAP.     I  believe  the  effect  will  be  striking. 


52          A  Night  Off  j  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

DAM.  It  will  be.  I  wouldn't  miss  it  for  the  world 
Snap,  you  are  the  prince  of  barn-stormers.  (Crosses  to  L.) 

SNAP.  Barn-stormers  !  Who  were  the  first  actors  ?  Barn- 
stormers. Who  was  Roscius  ?  A  barn-stormer  !  Or  Gar- 
rick —  or  Kean  ?  Barn-stormers!  Perhaps  I  don't  always 
pay  my  salaries,  and  can't  always  take  my  trunks  away  — 
but  all  the  more  glory  for  getting  on  in  spite  of  it.  Where's 
your  school  for  genius  ?  We  have  it !  Who  in  his  time 
plays  many  parts  ?  We  do  !  Barn-stormers,  indeed  !  Barn- 
stormers !  !  (EXITS,  in  high  indignation,  after  the  PRO- 
FESSOR.) 

DAM.  Bravo,  Snap !  I  like  a  man  to  stand  up  for  his 
trade. 

MRS.  BABBITT  RE-ENTERS,  R.  D. 

MRS.  B.  You  seem  in  remarkably  good  spirits.  (DAM- 
ASK instantly  becomes  grave.  She  looks  around?)  I  thought 
I  heard  high  words. 

DAM.     You  didn't  expect  to  hear  low  language,  I  hope. 

MRS.  B.  This  is  no  time  for  trifling,  Henry.  My  daugh- 
ter has  told  me  everything. 

DAM.     In  spite  of  my  express  injunctions  ! 

MRS.  B.     It  was  her  duty,  as  my  child. 

DAM.     And  what  was  her  duty,  as  my  wife  ? 

MRS.  B.  How  can  you  talk  of  duty  after  the  revelations 
jrou  have  made  ? 

DAM.  (aside).  I'm  afraid  we've  made  a  nice  mess,  after 
all. 

MRS.  B.  You  perceive  that  I  do  not  use  violent  re- 
proaches. I  will  even  shield  you.  Angelica's  father  shall 
know  nothing. 

DAM.     That  being  the  case,  let's  say  no  more  about  it. 

MRS.  B.  It's  a  subject  that  will  not  bear  discussion;  1 
shall  simply  act.  (He  looks  at  her?)  I  will  take  the  settle- 
ment of  this  affair  into  my  own  hands. 


A  Night  Off ;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         53 

DAM.     I  don't  quite  comprehend. 

MRS.  B.  I  doubt  if  there  is  another  mother-in-law  who 
would  act  with  so  much  dignity  and  tact. 

DAM.   (R.).    No ;  it's  remarkable. 

MRS.  B.  (L.).  I  only  require  from  you  the  whole  truth. 
First  of  all,  about  that  unfortunate  girl.  Is  everything  over 
between  you  ? 

DAM.  (solemnly).     Forever ! 

MRS.  B.  That  is  satisfactory  as  far  as  it  goes.  Next,  as 
to  those  shameful  debts.  You  must  pay  them  instantly. 
Has  Angelica  given  you  the  money  ? 

DAM.     Yes  ;  but  it's  gone. 

MRS.  B.  (excitedly).     Gone  ! 

DAM.  (correcting  himself).  I  mean  gone  by  mail.  I  paid 
the  bills  on  the  spot. 

MRS.  B.  Oh  !  I'm  glad  you  have  had  that  sense  of 
honor.  And  now  to  the  most  important  point. 

DAM.     Is  there  another  point? 

MRS.  B.  (intently,  leaning  forward).     The  uncle  ! 

DAM.     What  uncle  ? 

MRS.  B.  The  uncle  who  called  you  to  account  for  the  fate 
of  his  niece. 

DAM.  Oh  I  Oh,  he's  all  right.  He'll  cool  down.  (Aside) 
What  a  mess  of  rubbish  I  made  up. 

MRS.  B.  I  cannot  believe  it.  My  child's  happiness  is  at 
stake,  and  that  man  must  be  conciliated. 

DAM.     But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Babbitt,  — 

MRS.  B.  Don't  try  to  put  me  off.  My  resolve  is  taken. 
I  must  communicate  with  that  man,  and  entreat  his  par- 
don, for  the  sake  of  my  innocent  daughter  whom  you  have 
married. 

DAM.  (L.).  It's  not  at  all  necessary.  I  beg  you  won't  feel 
the  slightest  uneasiness. 

MRS.  B.  (shaking  her  head  obdurately).  I  shall  write  hia 
this  very  night.  Give  me  his  address. 


54         A  Night  OH;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac* 

DAM.  (L.,  aside).  Here's  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish  1  (Aloud.) 
I  cannot  give  you  his  address. 

MRS.  B.     Why  not? 

DAM.     I  don't  know  it. 

MRS.  B.     His  last  address. 

DAM.  He's  changed  it.  He  skips  about  from  place  to 
place. 

MRS.  B.     He  is  searching  for  you. 

DAM.  What  nonsense !  I  assure  you,  he's  quite  satisfied. 
As  long  as  the  bills  are  paid,  he'll  let  up. 

MRS.  B.     How  will  he  know  that  the  bills  are  paid  ? 

DAM.  (aside).     O  Lord !     (Aloud)     I  shall  tell  him. 

MRS.  B.     You  don't  know  his  address. 

DAM.  I  didn't  say  I  would  write  to  him.  I  said  I  would 
tell  him. 

MRS.  B.     You  know  where  to  find  him  ? 

DAM.  (exhausted).  No.  (Savagely.)  The  fact  is,  I  have 
told  him. 

[READY  SNAP,  with  MSS.,  and  PROFESSOR,  to 
enter  L. 

MRS.  B.  (alarmed).     He  has  been  here? 

DAM.  Quite  casually.  Travelling  to  see  the  university 
(Crosses  to  R.) 

MRS.  B.  (L.).  I  have  a  dreadful  apprehension !  Those 
high  words  I  heard  just  before  I  entered  — 

DAM.     No,  no  !     We  parted  on  the  best  of  terms. 

MRS.  B.    You  assure  me  sacredly  that  you  are  reconciled  ? 

DAM.     Sacredly. 

MRS.  B.  (hand  to  her  heart).  Oh,  what  a  relief !  Go  in- 
stantly and  reassure  your  wife.  You  don't  know  in  what  a 
state  I  left  her.  (Sinks  into  chair.) 

DAM.  (angrily).  I  can  imagine.  (Aside,  going.)  Meddling 
old  —  !  Confound  it !  it's  my  own  fault.  I'll  never  play 
another  joke  as  long  as  I  live.  (EXITS,  R.,  in  temper.) 

MRS.  B.  (looks  after  him).     I  believe  he  is  truly  repen 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         55 

tant.    (Goes  to  door,  R.,  and  listens.)     If  he  is  only  kind  to 
Angelica. 

SNAP  RE-ENTERS,  L.,  with  MSS.,  followed  by  the  PROFES- 
SOR, rubbing  his  hands.  He  perceives  MRS.  BABBITT  in- 
stantly. 

PROF.     My  wife  !     Great  Scott !     (Runs  off,  L.) 

SNAP.     His  wife  1     (Tries  to  steal  towards  door,  c.) 

MRS.  B.   (R.,  rises,  turns  and  sees  him).    A  stranger  ! 

\_He  stops  awkwardly. 
Who  are  you  ?    What  are  you  doing  ? 

SNAP.  Nothing,  nothing  in  particular,  my  dear  madam  ! 
Mrs.  Babbitt,  I  believe  ? 

MRS.  B.   (R.).     Are  you  looking  for  my  husband  ? 

SNAP.     No,  no.     Not  at  all. 

MRS.  B.     Or  the  doctor  ?     Shall  I  call  him  ? 

SNAP.  Pray  don't.  I  don't  want  the  doctor.  I'm  quite 
well,  thank  goodness  !  I've  had  enough  of  the  doctor. 

MRS.  B.  (alarmed).  You  —  you  have  seen  my  son-in-law, 
then? 

SNAP.  Yes ;  it's  all  right.  I  bear  no  malice.  (Aside.) 
Barn-stormers,  indeed ! 

MRS.  B.  (aside  and  in  alarm).  No  malice  !  Good  heavens! 
can  it  be  the  uncle  ?  (Aloud)  You  —  you  are  a  stranger  ? 

SNAP  (quickly).  Yes,  a  traveller!  Stopped  over  to  see  the 
—  university. 

MRS.  B.  (aside).     It  is  he  I 

SNAP  (trying  to  escape).    I  wish  you  good-morning. 

MRS.  B.  Stop !  (Breathlessly.)  Concealment  is  useless. 
I  know  your  business  here.  Before  you  go  you  and  I  must 
have  an  explanation. 

SNAP  (aside).  She  wants  to  get  the  play  back.  (Puts 
MSS.  in  his  breast  pocket  and  buttons  up)  Not  if  I  know  it 

MRS.  B.  (approaching  with  sympathy).     I  know  all. 

SNAP  (defiantly).     Well,  if  you  know  all,  you  know  that 


56          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Babae. 

things  have  gone  too  far  to  have  any  fooling  now.    (Crosses 
to  R.) 

MRS.  B.  (draws  him  gently  forward}.  No  one  —  no  one 
sympathizes  with  your  poor  niece  more  than  1  do. 

SNAP  (R.).     Niece!     I  have  no  niece. 

MRS.  B.    No ;  because  you  heartlessly  cast  her  off. 

SNAP.  'Gad,  it's  a  regular  play.  (Strikes  an  attitude?)  Ay, 
I  cast  her  off.  What  then  ?  (Aside.)  I'll  let  her  play  it  out. 
(folds  his  arms  and  gazes  at  her.) 

MRS.  B.  And  you  have  come  to  seek  satisfaction  from  my 
son-in-law. 

SNAP.  Eh  ?  Oh,  have  I  ?  (Aside.)  And  I'll  get  it,  too. 
Barn-stormers  !  Ha !  ha !  (Aloud.)  What  would  you  ? 
(Strikes  a  gloomy  attitude.) 

MRS.  B.     He  has  wronged  you. 

SNAP  (naturally).     In  my  tenderest  point. 

MRS.  B.  Oh,  how  you  must  have  suffered  when  the  con- 
vent gates  closed  upon  that  broken-hearted  child! 

SNAP  (pretends  to  be  shaken  with  emotion,  and  aside,  turning 
from  her).  It's  a  regular  Seaside  Library  dramatized  !  She's 
given  me  the  cue,  though.  That  young  villain,  to  deceive  a 
broken-hearted  girl !  I'll  pile  some  more  on  him.  (Aloud 
and  a  la  lago.)  You  don't  know  all  !  Have  you  courage  ? 
{READ  Y  DAMASK  and  ANGELICA,  to  enter  R. 

MRS.  B.  (firmly).     I  am  his  mother-in-law. 

SNAP.     The  niece  was  not  his  only  victim ! 

MRS.  B.  Great  heavens!  (With  intense  curiosity}  Go 
on ! 

SNAP  (crosses  to  c.).  Poor,  poor  Camille  !  (Handkerchief 
to  eyes.) 

MRS.  B.     I  shudder  at  your  words. 

SNAP.  One  day  the  old  man  came  home  —  the  girl's 
father,  I  mean.  He  came  home  to  —  to  dinner.  (MRS. 
BABBITT  drops  into  chair.)  It  was  too  late !  They  had 
flown,  leaving  a  note  upon  his  empty  plate. 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  BaUae         57 

MRS.  B.     And  the  end,  the  end  ? 

SNAP.  For  years  that  wronged  father  pursued  the  search 
for  his  only  Camille.  At  length  he  found  his  child  in 
wretched  lodgings,  abandoned  to  the  care  of  pampered  me- 
nials. The  ruffian  had  deserted  her.  His  paltry  reason, 
her  want  of  grammar.  (Stage,  L.) 

MRS.  B.  (rises).     The  upstart !     It  is  just  like  him. 

DAMASK  RE-ENTERS  with  ANGELICA,  R. 
So,  sir ! 

SNAP.    The  deuce!  (Tries  to  bolt.  MRS.  BABBITT  holds  him?) 
DAM.     By  Jove !     (Tries  to  push   ANGELICA   off  again.) 
This  is  no  place  for  you. 

MRS.  B.  Stay  where  you  are.  I  have  had  an  interview 
with  the  uncle.  He  has  told  me  all. 

DAM.     What,    Snap?     (Aside.)     How   clever   of  him   to 
take  the  part  at  a  moment's  notice  !    (Crosses  to  him;  aloud?) 
My  dear  sir  !     (Aside?)     I  owe  you  more  than  I  can  pay. 
SNAP  (aside,  L.).     I'm  afraid  you  do. 
MRS.  B.  (R.  c.).     So,  sir  —  there  was  another  victim! 
ANG.     Mamma !     (Coming  forward?)     Another  victim ! 
DAM.     Another  vie —  !     (Drops  SNAP'S  hand.) 
MRS.  B.     He  has  revealed  to  me  the  full  measure  of  your 
wickedness. 

ANG.     O  Henry  ! 

MRS.  B.     What  have  you  done  with  Camille  ? 

[READ  Y  curtain. 

ANG.  (shrieks).     Camille  !     (Crosses  to  R.  c.) 
DAM.     Cam  — !     (To  SNAP.)     You  — ! 
ANG.     Mother !     Camille !     (Screams.) 

[DAMASK  rushes  to  catch  ANGELICA. 
MRS.  B.  (interposes  and  waves  him  off).     Monster  ! 

[DAMASK  now  makes  a  dart  after  SNAP,  who  has 
stood  above,  laughing.  The  latter  rushes  for  door, 
as  the 

CURTAIN   FALLS. 


58          A  Night  Off  j  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac 


ACT  III. 

SCENE.  —  Same  as  Act  L  It  is  night;  the  lamps  on  the 
tables,  R.  and  L.,  are  lighted.  A  fire  is  burning  in  the 
grate. 

As  the  curtain  rises  the  music  of  a  brass  band  is 
heard  playing  such  an  air  as  they  perform  outside 
of  country  shows.  NISBE  is  discovered  seated  at  the 
fireplace.  She  holds  a  copy  of  "  Life  "  in  her  hand, 
as  if  she  had  been  reading.  She  jumps  up  as  the 
music  continues,  and  looks  out  of  the  window. 
READY  PROFESSOR,  to  enter  L. 

NISBE  (after  music  has  played  a  few  minutes').  I  can  see 
the  lights  at  the  theatre,  and  the  band  is  playing  to  attract 
the  people.  (Turning  away  from  the  window?)  Oh,  if  I 
could  only  go !  But  mamma  knows  nothing  about  our  play, 
and  wouldn't  let  me  go  if  she  did.  (Throws  herself  in  seat 
by  table,  c.)  How  will  papa  ever  pass  the  evening?  Here's 
his  comic  paper,  and  there's  his  easy-chair  by  the  fire.  (Puts 
paper  on  table,  c.)  But  he  won't  rest  content;  I  know  he 
won't.  (Sits?) 

The  PROFESSOR  ENTERS  nervously  from  L.,  in  old-fashioned 

full-dress  suit,  much  too  large.     Looks  out  and  then 

comes  down  shivering. 

PROFESSOR.     Is  that  you,  Nisbe  ? 

Nis.  Papa,  do  try  and  compose  yourself.  You  are  wan- 
dering up  and  down  stairs  so  often  that  you  will  surely  be 
suspected. 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         59 

PROF.     I  can't  compose  myself. 

Nis.  Sit  by  the  fire  and  read.  (Fixes  chair  for  him  up 
c.)  Here's  Life  ;  it's  very  funny  this  week.  (Offers  paper :) 
I  laughed  over  it  ever  so  much. 

PROF,  (rejects paper).  I  don't  feel  funny  to-night.  I  feel 
like  Guy  Fawkes  with  his  gunpowder,  waiting  for  the  clock 
to  strike.  (Runs  to  window?)  I  think  I  see  the  people  go- 
ing to  the  theatre. 

Nis.  (running  to  look,  peeping  over  his  shoulder}.  Oh,  it 
can't  be  !  It  wants  a  full  hour  before  they  begin. 

PROF,  (looks  at  his  watch,  coming  down,  crosses  to  R.).  So 
it  does.  The  minutes  drag  like  hours. 

Nis.  (takes  his  arm  and  leans  her  head  on  his  shoulder).  O 
papa,  if  I  could  only  go  ! 

PROF.  (R.).  Do  be  sensible,  child.  It's  no  use.  You 
know  what  your  mother  is.  It's  hard  enough  for  me  to 
steal  off. 

Nis.  (L.,  surprised}.     Do  you  think  of  going  ? 

[READY  SUSAN,  to  enter  L.  c. 

PROF,  (testily).  Of  course.  I  must.  Harry  and  I  have 
made  up  a  plan. 

Nis.  (pouting).  Harry,  too  1  I  think  your  plan  might 
take  me  in. 

PROF.  It  can't.  You  see,  we  pretend  that  we've  been 
asked  to  a  whist  party  at  the  President's  —  rfobody  but  men. 
Don't  you  let  on. 

Nis.  (>i0tfs,  and  then  squeezes  close  to  his  ami).  I  won't. 
Will  the  performance  be  very  good,  papa  ? 

PROF.  I  don't  know.  I  ran  away  from  rehearsal  to-day 
in  misery.  I  never  saw  anything  so  bad.  But  Snap  says  it 
will  be  all  right  at  night. 

NTS.  (L.).  Of  course  it  will,  if  he  says  so.  Tell  me  all 
about  the  characters.  Will  Cassius  be  nice  ? 

PROF.  Oh,  that's  Mr.  Chumley.  He  seems  to  be  the 
best  of  the  lot. 


60          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

Nis.  I  knew  from  the  first  he'd  be  good.  There's  some* 
thing  so  superior  about  him  ;  don't  you  think  so  ?  I  declare, 
I  could  cry  at  not  going.  (Crosses  to  R.) 

SUSAN  ENTERS,  L.  c.,  and  calls  in  a  whisper. 

SUSAN.     Professor !     Professor ! 

PROF,  (in  whisper].     What  is  it  ? 

SUSAN  (same,  coming  down).  The  manager  is  here,  and 
must  see  you. 

PROF,  (alarmed}.  What  can  he  want?  (To  NISBE.) 
Where's  your  mother  ? 

Nis.  (points  R.).     In  there  with  Harry  and  Angy. 

\_READ  Y  SNAP  and  JACK,  to  enter  L.  c. 

PROF.     Peep  through  the  keyhole,  and  see  if  she  stirs. 

[NISBE  runs  up  to  R.  D.,  and  obeys. 
(To  SUSAN.)     Where  have  you  got  him  ? 

SUSAN.  In  the  vestibule.  A  young  gentleman  is  with 
him.  That  Mr.  Chumley. 

Nis.  (looking  up).  Cassius  ?  Oh,  let  'em  come  up,  papa. 
Let  Cassius  come  up. 

PROF,  (to  NISBE).  Sh  !  (To  SUSAN.)  Bring  them  in,  but 
don't  make  a  noise. 

SUSAN  (creeping  out  on  tip-toe).  All  right,  Professor ! 
(EXITS,  L.  c.) 

Nis.  (coming  down}.  You  needn't  be  afraid,  papa.  Harry 
is  reading  out  loud,  and  mamma  and  Angy  are  sewing. 

PROF.  (L.,  relieved}.  Very  well.  Now  you  go  and  keep 
them  in  there  until  I  come. 

Nis.  (pouts}.     But  I  want  to  stay. 

PROF.     Go,  I  tell  you.     (Goes  to  L.  c.,  softly?) 

Nis.  Just  as  he  is  here !  But  I'll  find  some  excuse  for 
coming  back.  (Takes  a  bunch  of  keys  out  of  her  pocket,  and 
after  assuring  herself  that  her  father  is  not  looking,  she  lays 
them  on  the  mantel?) 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         61 

SUSAN  shows  in  SNAP,  L.  c.,  in  long  ulster,  and  JACK.  JACK 
bows  very  politely  to  NISBE,  who  returns  it  and  EXITS 
delightedly,  at  R.  SUSAN  EXITS,  L.  c. 

PROF.  (R.,  in  low  tone  at  first,  and  then  naturally).  Now 
what  is  it  ?  What's  gone  wrong  ?  Will  you  have  to  post- 
pone it  ? 

SNAP.  Postpone  it !  What  an  idea  1  Why,  the  house  is 
sold  out.  It's  the  biggest  thing  I  ever  did. 

PROF.  If  it  were  only  over  !  I  feel  a  cold  chill  through 
and  through. 

JACK  (L.).  Of  course  you  do,  my  dear  sir.  But  wait  till 
we  end  in  a  burst  of  glory.  That'll  warm  you. 

PROF,  (crosses  to  c.,  shakes  his  hand).  Do  you  think  so  ? 
(To  SNAP.)  But  what  are  you  doing  here?  You'll  be  late. 
You  come  on  in  the  first  act. 

SNAP.  Don't  fret  about  me.  I'll  dress  for  King  Titus 
Tatius  in  five  minutes. 

PROF.     Then,  what  is  it  ?     What  do  you  want  ? 

SNAP  (scratches  his  head,  embarrassed).  Well,  the  fact  is, 
Professor,  it's  about  the  part  of  that  confounded  female 
slave. 

PROF.  My  beautiful  Sabine !  Why,  I  altered  it  for  your 
boy. 

SNAP.  Yes,  but  my  wife  has  just  remembered  that  every- 
body's on  the  stage  in  Tullia's  scene,  and  we  want  him  to  do 
the  tumult  of  citizens  behind,  and  to  ring  down  the  curtain. 
We  haven't  another  soul  to  spare. 

PROF,   (in  despair).    Then  what's  to  be  done  ? 

JACK.     Awful  fix,  isn't  it  ? 

SNAP.  Don't  lose  your  head.  My  wife's  got  an  idea. 
(Checking  off  on  his  fingers.)  You  see  Tullia  cannot  be  a 
female  slave,  because  we  haven't  a  young  woman  left;  it 
can't  be  a  child,  because  he  has  got  his  hands  full  with  the 
tumult. 


62          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

JACK.     And  the  curtain. 

SNAP.  So  there's  nothing  left  but  to  condense  the  whole 
part  into  a  letter. 

PROF.     A  letter  !     (Crosses  to  R.)     Are  you  mad  ? 

SNAP.  Not  at  all.  We  can  have  a  messenger  bring  on  a 
letter.  Cassius  reads  it.  You  can  keep  in  all  the  poetry, 
if  you  like,  and  you  have  the  whole  effect. 

JACK  (L.).  But  you  forget,  we  haven't  any  one  to  do  the 
messenger.  That  won't  do.  [READY SUSAN,  to  enter  L.  c. 

SNAP  (nonplussed}.  'That's  a  fact!  (Suddenly.)  Well, 
I'll  tell  you  what.  You  can  find  the  letter  on  the  stage. 
(To  PROFESSOR.)  It's  a  wood  scene.  The  letter  can  be  left 
on  a  stump  before  the  curtain  goes  up.  (To  JACK.  PRO- 
FESSOR sinks  into  chair  at  tabled)  At  the  cue  for  the  entrance 
of  the  female  slave,  you  discover  the  letter,  say  "  Ha ! 
what  have  we  here  ?  By  all  the  gods,  a  letter ! "  —  and  there 
you  are.  Just  practice  that. 

[JACK  does  so  up  stage,  L.,  gesticulating  violently,  and 
mutters  as  if  acting. 

PROF.  No,  no !  It's  absurd !  They'll  guy  it.  They'll 
howl  at  the  whole  thing. 

SNAP.  Not  a  bit !  We've  done  worse  than  that,  and 
they  stood  it.  Just  write  the  letter.  (Pulls  out  MSS.  and 
gives  it  to  him}  We  haven't  anything  to  lose.  It'll  be  all 
right.  (Pats  him  on  back} 

PROF.  Do  what  you  like  with  me  ;  I'm  prepared  for  any- 
thing. (Going,  L.)  I  wish  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  I 
had  never  gone  into  the  business.  (EXITS,  L.  D.) 

SNAP  (following  the  PROFESSOR,  winks  back  at  JACK.) 
Wait  here.  I'll  bring  the  letter  !  (EXITS,  L.  D.) 

JACK.  Poor  old  gentleman  !  He  won't  know  his  tragedy. 
(Sits,  R.) 

SUSAN  peeps  in,  L.  c.,  and  comes  down  cautiously  to  JACK. 
SUSAN.     O   Mr.   Chumley,   do    tell    me   if    anything    is 


A  Night  Off}  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.          63 

«vrorig.  I  listened  outside,  but  I  couldn't  make  out  more 
than  a  word  here  and  there.  I  know  it's  about  our  play; 
isn't  it  ? 

JACK.     Yes. 

SUSAN.  Won't  it  be  played  ?  Has  anything  happened 
to  stop  it  ?  Break  it  softly  to  me ;  if  you  say  "  Yes,"  I'll  fall 
right  down  where  I  stand. 

JACK.  (R.).  Calm  yourself,  Susan.  Everything  is  going 
well.  I've  brought  you  your  ticket.  (Gives  it.*) 

SUSAN.  Oh,  dear !  "  L.  —  13-15  !  "  Why,  I'll  melt  there. 
1  don't  know  yet  how  I'm  to  get  over.  Monday  ain't  my 
night  out,  and  I  never  get  an  extra  without  a  week's  notice 
to  Mrs.  Babbitt.  But  I'd  cut  over  and  see  it,  if  I  was  to 
get  warning  on  the  spot.  I  couldn't  stay  home  with  the 
excitement  I'm  in.  Take  my  advice,  Mr.  Chumley,  and 
never  write  a  play  ;  I  can't  tell  you  all  the  worry  we've  gone 
through  with  this  one. 

JACK.  I  assure  you  everything  will  be  all  right.  (Crosses 
to  L.) 

SUSAN  (shakes  her  head}.  I  don't  believe  it !  (With  em- 
phasis.} I  don't  believe  it.  I  laid  out  the  cards  last  night 
before  I  went  to  bed,  and  they  came  out  unlucky  every  time. 
(Mysteriously.}  The  nine  of  spades  turned  up  alongside  the 
professor  three  times  hand  running.  Ain't  that  a  warning  ? 

JACK  (laughs).     Is  the  nine  of  spades  fatal  ? 

SUSAN.  Don't  laugh,  Mr.  Chumley  !  Miss  Nisbe  used  to 
faugh  at  the  cards  once,  but  you  should  see  her  now.  I've 
seen  her  sitting  at  this  here  table  (indicating  table,  R.)  these 
three  days  telling  her  fortune  with  them.  (Opens  drawer  of 
table  and  produces  cards*}  There  they  are  now. 

JACK  (anxiously).  Are  you  sure  you  delivered  my  bou- 
quets to  her  every  morning  ?  {READ  Y  NISBE,  to  enter  R.  D. 

SUSAN  (R.).     Every  morning  before  breakfast ! 

JACK.     What  did  she  say  ? 

SUSAN.     Oh,  she  was  furious ! 


&          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

JACK  (dejected}.     Furious? 

SUSAN.  When  she  asked  me  who  they  were  from  and  I 
told  her,  she  scolded  me  awful.  How  dare  I  do  such  a 
thing,  and  what  did  I  mean  by  it.  (Crosses  to  L.) 

JACK.     I  was  afraid  of  that.     What  did  she  do  with  'em  ? 

SUSAN  (confidentially).  She  took  them  straight  to  her 
room  and  put  them  in  water  ;  and  when  they  got  faded  she 
took  'em  out  and  wrapped  each  one  of  'em  in  tissue  paper 
and  put  'em  away  in  her  hat-box. 

JACK  (overjoyed}.  Did  she  ?  In  her  hat-box !  O  Susan, 
if  you  knew  how  happy  that  makes  me !  In  her  hat-box, 
too  !  (Crosses  to  L.,  rapturously.} 

NISBE  ENTERS,  R.  D.,  apparently  looking  for  something. 

NISBE  (crossing  to  c.).  Susan,  did  you  see —  (Sees  JACK.) 
Oh,  I  beg  pardon  !  Are  you  here  still  ? 

JACK.  Yes,  quite  still,  thank  you;  I'm  waiting  for  the 
professor. 

Nis.     Indeed  !     Susan,  have  you  seen  my  keys  ? 

[SUSAN  is  about  to  look  for  them  on  the  mantel. 
No,  no.  They  can't  be  here.  I  must  have  left  them  in 
the  laundry,  or  in  the  storeroom.  (Go  and  see.  If  they  are 
not  there  they  must  be  in  the  cellar.  (Crosses  to  R.)  I  was 
down  there  to-day.  (Pretends  to  look  about  room} 

SUSAN.     Yes,  Miss  Nisbe.     (Going.} 

JACK  (aside,  to  SUSAN).  Susan  I  Stay  in  the  cellar  as 
long  as  you  can. 

SUSAN  (nods  and  smiles,  and  looks  at  both  ;  then  when  in  the 
doorway}.  O  Miss  Nisbe  !  If  I  can't  find  them  in  the  cel- 
lar, shall  I  look  in  the  garret  ? 

Nis.     Yes,  yes  ;  only  go  at  once. 

SUSAN  (aside).  I'll  just  stay  outside  the  door  and  listen. 
I'm  too  fond  of  this  sort  of  thing  to  lose  a  syllable, 
(EXITS,  L.  c.) 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page. from  Balzac.          65 

Nis.  (feeling  in  her  pocket  and  looking  arouna}.  I  can't 
think  !  \They  change  sides,  looking  away  from  each  other. 

JACK.     May  I  help  you  search  ? 

Nis.  (L.).  Thank  you,  Susan  will  find  them.  Won't  you 
sit  down  ?  (Sits?) 

JACK.  If  you  will  permit  me.  (Short pause.  Both  much 
embarrassed  ;  finally?)  Oh!  (She  starts.}  I  beg  pardon,  but 
I  have  suddenly  remembered  that  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of 
you. 

Nis.     Of  me  ? 

JACK.  I  see  a  pack  of  cards  on  the  table.  My  sisters  used 
to  tell  fortunes  with  cards.  Do  you  understand  the  art  ? 

Nis.   (eagerly).     Oh,  yes  !     I  know  it  very  well! 

JACK.  I  am  not  generally  superstitious,  you  know,  but 
there  are  moods  in  which  we  long  to  question  fate. 

Nis.  (half  to  herself}.  Oh,  yes;  I  know.  I've  felt  'em 
myself. 

JACK.  I  will  confess  to  you  that  I  am  at  this  moment  at 
the  turning-point  of  my  life.  I'm  meditating  %  step  — 
(Getting  to  c.) 

Nis.     A  step  ? 

JACK.  A  step  (drops  in  chair}  on  which  the  happiness  or 
unhappiness  of  my  future  depends.  If  you  would  give  me 
but  a  hint. 

Nis.  (pretending  innocence).     How  ? 

JACK.  I  mean  by  the  cards.  Please  read  for  me  in  my 
book  of  fate.  (Hands  her  the  cards.} 

Nis.  I'll  try.  (Crosses  to  R.  She  looks  around,  as  if  in 
search  of  something.  He  looks  around  too.  She  looks  the  re- 
verse way.  They  turn  round  and  bump.  He  turns  to  her  in 
comic  surprise?)  I  want  something  to  hold  on  my  lap — a 
big  book  or  something.  (Crosses  to  L.) 

JACK  (brings  chair  forward,  and  takes  up  portfolio  front 
table,  R.)  Will  this  do  ?  \Nismplacesckairforherself. 

Nis.     Yes,  thank  you. 


6t          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Baleac. 

\He  brings  it;  he  sits  before  her,  and  they  place  it  on 

their  knees  together. 

That  will  do.  (She  shuffles  cards.)  You  see,  first  I  shuffle 
them.  That  is  important.  (Lays  them  down.)  Now,  you 
must  cut. 

JACK.  I  beg  your  pardon  !  Eh  ?  Oh,  the  cards !  I 
thought  you  meant  —  (Cuts  cards.) 

Nis.  There,  so  !  Now  I  divide  them  into  four  parts,  and 
lay  each  part  down  so.  (Does  so.)  Now,  you  must  make  a 
wish. 

JACK  (looking  up  rapturously).     I  have  made  a  wish  ! 

Nis.  (looks  through  one  of  the  piles  and  finds  the  king  oj 
hearts,  and  holds  it  before  him.)  Remember  that  card,  that 
is  you. 

JACK.     The  king  of  hearts  —  I  see. 

Nis.     Yes,  because  you  are  light. 

JACK.     Light  ?     Ah,  light-headed  —  I  mean  light-hearted. 

Nis.  (spreads  out  the  pile  in  which  the  king  is).  And  these 
are  your  thoughts. 

JACK.     And  what  am  I  thinking  of  ? 

Nis.  (shakes  her  head  at  them) .  Nothing  serious.  (Puts  her 
finger  on  one  meditatively^)  Here  is  a  passing  fancy  !  (Finger 
on  another?)  And  here  is  an  early  separation  which  you  find 
it  hard  to  get  over.  (Lays  king  aside?) 

JACK.     Oh,  that  must  be  a  mistake. 

Nis.  (gathers  up  the  first  pile  and  lays  it  aside.  Takes  up 
another).  Now,  pay  attention.  (Deals  them  face  up  and 
counts.)  i,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7.  (Picks  out  card.)  An  old  gentle- 
man. (Lays  card  alongside  of  king  of  hearts.) 

JACK.     That's  my  stern  parent. 

Nis.   (takes  up  another  pile  and  counts).      I,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7* 

JACK.     Seven  again  ! 

Nis.  (ruminating  on  seventh  card).  That's  bad!  (Cheer 
fully.)  But  it  doesn't  amount  to  much.  (Puts pack  down.) 

JACK.     I'm  glad  of  that. 


A.  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac,          67 

Nis.  (third pile,  same  bus.),  i,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7.  xAn  impor- 
ant  letter. 

JACK.  Oh,  that's  the  letter  we  sent  to  make  up  with  the 
dear  old  gentleman. 

Nis.  (fourth  pile,  counting),  i,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7.  An  unset- 
tled, light  young  man. 

JACK.     That  must  be  I. 

Nis.   (retttrns  to  first  pile),     i,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7. 

JACK.  Quick  was  the  little  maid's  reply,  "  O  master,  we 
are  seven !"  'Hem!  Wordsworth. 

Nis.  A  fair  young  woman !  (Goes  back  over  the  cards  in  her 
hand?)  And  a  temporary  illness.  It  looks  like  a  fainting 
spell. 

JACK.     But  that  doesn't  amount  to  much. 

Nis.  (places  the  card  in  the  row  with  the  others}.  The  young 
woman  is  very  near  you.  [READ  Y  SUSAN,  to  enter  L.  c. 

JACK  (moving  the  card).     Put  her  a  little  nearer. 

Nis.  (raps  his  hand ;  he  withdraws  it,  and  she  moves  the 
card  back.  Then  takes  tip  the  third  pile  and  counts),  i,  2,  3, 
4,  5,  6,  7.  There  is  a  change  taking  place  in  you. 

JACK.     There  is ;  I  feel  it. 

Nis.  (running  over  the  pile).  And  in  the  young  lady. 
(Holds  up  a  card  in  artless  surprised)  See ! 

JACK  (seizes  her  hand).     Tell  me  about  the  young  lady. 

Nis.  (rises,  shutting  up  book  iirith  the  cards,  and  rising  with 
the  pilz  she  has  in  her  hand).  No,  I  can't.  It's  all  nonsense. 

JACK  (puts  chair  back).  How  can  it  be  nonsense,  when  it's 
just  commencing  to  be  interesting  ?  (Goes  to  her.)  Come,  do 
go  on.  i,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7.  What  about  the  young  lady  ? 

[READY  SNAP,  with  MSS.  and  sheet  of  paper,  to 
enter  L. 

Nis.  (crosses  to  R.  ;  breaks  away).  Oh,  I  —  I  can't  tell  you 
that ! 

JACK  (following  her).  Oh,  you  must !  I  can't  give  that 
seven  up. 


68          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

Nis.  Well,  then.  (Opening  cants.}  i,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7.  Oh, 
I  can't !  (Dashes  off,  R.,  leaving  the  cards  in  his  hand.) 

JACK.  She  runs  off  and  leaves  my  fate  in  darkness.  (Open* 
cards.)  If  I  only  knew  what  she  thought  that  card  meant ! 

SUSAN,  L.  c.,  puts  licr  iiead  in  door,  up  stage. 

SUSAN.     How  far  have  you  got  ? 

JACK,  i,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7.  I  say,  Susan,  come  here.  Here's 
a  young  lady  with  a  change  coming  over  her !  Seven's  the 
change,  I  suppose.  Seven's  the  nine  of  hearts  !  (SUSAN  holds, 
up  both  hands.)  What  does  the  nine  of  hearts  mean  ? 

SUSAN.  Don't  you  know?  That's  luck  !  The  young  lady 
loves  you  ! 

JACK.  Loves  me  !  Does  she  ?  (Hugs  SUSAN.)  I'm  over- 
joyed. 

SUSAN  (looking  up  archly,  as  he's  about  to  kiss  her).  I'm 
not  the  young  lady,  am  I  ? 

[READ  Y  DAMASK,  to  enter  R.  ;  and  PROFESSOR,  with 
pen,  to  enter  L. 

JACK.     No,  but  I'm  so  happy! 

SNAP  ENTERS,  L.,  with  the  AISS.  and  with  a  sheet  of  paper, 
on  which  is  writing. 

SNAP.     Hello!  Hello! 

[SuSAN  breaks  away  and  goes  into  alcove,  dusting  vig- 
orously.   JACK  turns  and  claps  SNAP  on  both  shoul- 
ders, and  pulls  him  to  and  fro  in  Jiis  ecstasy. 
JACK.    Snap,  my  boy,  she  loves  me  !    1,^,3,4,5,6,7!    She 
loves  me  !     (Flourishing  card.) 

SNAP  (seizing  him  by  the.  ami).  For  Heaven's  sake,  don't 
go  off  your  head  at  this  critical  moment.  Come,  we  must  go 
to  the  theatre.  It's  eight  o'clock  ! 

JACK.  No  !  It's  i,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6.  7  o'clock,  Snap  !  But,  no 
matter,  what's  an  hour  more  or  less  when  you're  in  paradise  ? 
In  paradise,  Snap  !  In  paradise  !  (Drags  him  off,  L.  c.) 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac*          69 

SUSAN  (comes  down).  Eight  o'clock  !  The  theatre  begins 
at  eight,  and  I  ana  still  in  this  dress.  (Takes  ojf  apron)  I'll 
just  throw  my  cloak  on  and  run  over,  let  'em  scold  as  much 
as  they  like.  I'll  have  to-night  to  myself,  if  they  bounce  me 
to-morrow.  (Runs  out,  L.  c.)  [READY  NISBE,  to  enter  R. 

DAMASK  ENTERS,  R.,  and  speaks  off  with  great  politeness. 

DAMASK.  Only  a  moment,  mamma.  I'll  be  back  directly. 
(Comes  down  petulantly)  This  is  a  pretty  piece  of  business! 

PROFESSOR  ENTERS,  L.,  wiping  /iis pen  on  his  coat-sleeve, 
hurriedly. 

PROF.     Well,  did  you  propose  it? 
.DAM.     Yes:  and  she  won't  let  us  go. 

PROF.  Did  you  tell  her  the  president  of  the  college  asked 
us  particularly  to  meet  somebody  ? 

DAM.  She  insists  upon  our  staying  at  home  this  evening. 
It  appears  that  she  is  feeling  particularly  amiable,  and  she 
wants  to  make  it  a  peace  celebration.  She  and  Angy  are  in 
a  state  of  emotional  tenderness. 

PROF.  That's  horrible  !  {Trots  to  window?)  Look  at 
all  ihe  people  streaming  to  the  theatre.  They'll  begin  the 
play  very  soon. 

DAM.  (looking  over  his  shoulder}.  By  Jove,  it's  exciting! 
Makes  you  want  to  jump  out  of  the  window! 

PROF,  (irritated).  And  we  have  to  stand  here  caged,  like 
two  children.  (Shows  tickets)  Look,  here  are  our  seats. 

NISBE  EATTERS  from  R.,  cautiously,  and  closes  door  softly 
after  her. 

DAM.     What's  the  use  of  tickets?     She  won't  let  us  oat 
What  is  to  be  done  ?     I  can't  think  of  anything. 
Nis.  (coming forward).     I'll  tell  you. 
PROF.     Nisbe ! 
DAM.  (c.).     You? 


70          A  Night  Off ;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

Nis.  (crosses  to  c.,  between  them,  finger  to  lips).  I'll  help 
you  to  get  away  —  both  of  you.  But  on  one  condition. 

BOTH.     Yes,  yes ! 

Nis.     You  must  take  me  with  you. 

PROF.     But  your  mother  ! 

\READ  Y  MRS.  BABBITT  and  ANGELICA,  with  work- 
baskets,  to  enter  R. 

DAM.     How  will  you  manage  it  ? 

Nis.  It's  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world,  if  you  can  go 
through  with  it.  When  mamma  comes  in  you,  papa,  must 
commence  to  find  fault  with  me ;  it  doesn't  matter  about 
what.  Then  I'll  give  you  saucy  answers.  Then  you  get 
very  angry  with  me,  and  send  me  to  your  room  for  the  rest  of 
the  evening.  I  go  out  crying  ;  you  lock  me  in.  I  run  down 
the  back  stairs,  laughing,  and  wait  for  you  on  the  stoop. 

PROF.     Yes  —  that's  all  very  well  for  you,  but  we  —  we  ! 

DAM.     Yes,  that  gets  you  out  all  right  — 

Nis.  Sh  !  As  soon  as  I  leave  the  room  you,  Harry,  you 
take  my  part.  Get  into  a  dispute  with  papa  about  his  ill- 
treating  me  —  both  of  you  get  heated  !  Tou  (to  DAMASK) 
take  up  your  hat  at  being  insulted,  and  run  out  of  the 
house  —  and  join  me  ! 

DAM.     Splendid ! 

PROF.     Yes,  but  where  do  I  come  in  ? 

Nis.  Why,  you  seize  your  hat  and  run  after  Harry,  to 
find  him,  apologize,  and  bring  him  back. 

DAM.     Glorious  !    (Hugging  her.}    Nisbe,  you're  a  witch  ! 

PROF.  Children,  it's  a  very  good  scheme,  but  it  won't 
work.  (Goes  up  shaking  his  head,  and  takes  *a  peep  out  of  the 
window?) 

MRS.  BABBITT  and  ANGELICA  ENTER  at  R.  They  bring 
their  work-baskets^  as  if  to  make  themselves  comfortable  for 
the  evening.  ANGELICA  arranges  chairs  at  the  fire.  MRS. 
BABBITT  goes  to  PROFESSOR,  who  comes  from  window  as 
soon  as  he  sees  her. 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  BaUac.          71 

MRS.  BABBITT.  Mr.  Babbitt !  Justinian !  Has  Harry 
fold  you  that  I  wish  to  make  this  evening  an  occasion  of 
family  reunion  ? 

PROF.     Yes,  unfortunately. 

MRS.  B.  We  must  forgive  Angelica's  husband.  True, 
his  past  life  has  been  a  stormy  one,  but  he  repents,  and  we 
have  pardoned.  Have  we  not,  Angelica  ? 

ANGELICA.  Yes,  mamma,  with  all  our  hearts.  (Shi  em- 
braces DAMASK,  who  has  come  to  her  after  a  brief  pantomime 
tside  with  NISBE.) 

DAM.     My  darling! 

MRS.  B.     And,  henceforth,  no  more  mystery. 
.DAM.   (crosses  to  her  and  back,  embraces  and  kisses  her). 
No,  mamma. 

MRS.  B.  (to  PROFESSOR).  And  you,  Justinian,  you  will  be 
your  own  old  self  again,  won't  you,  darling  ?  No  more 
abstraction,  no  fits  of  silence,  no  long  absences,  morning, 
noon,  and  night. 

PROF,  (absently).  Certainly !  Certainly !  (She  embraces 
him  rapturously  and  kisses  ///>«.) 

MRS.  B.     Children,  this  is  a  happy  evening  for  us  all. 

PROF,  and  DAM.  (looking  at  each  other  dolefully.  PRO- 
FESSOR embraces  MRS.  BABBITT.  DAMASK  embraces  ANGELICA. 
He  and  PROFESSOR  wink  at  each  other).  Yes,  very ! 

MRS.  B.  (sitting  at  fire  and  arranging  her  work).  We'll 
have  a  nice  cosey  time  together. 

PROF,  (looking  at  his  watch,  coughing,  and  looking  from 
NISBK  to  DAMASK,  who  urge  him  on).  The  fact  is,  Zippy, 
I  wanted  to  go  to  the  president's  for  a  little  while ;  he  ex- 
pects a  friend,  Professor  Polhemus,  from  New  York,  this 
evening. 

MRS.  B.     You  can  call  on  him  to-morrow. 

PROF,  and  DAM.  (quickly).  Oh,  no  !  To-morrow  won't 
do  —  never'll  do ! 

MRS.  B.   (decisively).     You  will  stay  at  home  this  evening* 


72  A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  BaUac. 

We  can't  afford  to  spoil  our  family  party  for  Professor  Pol- 
hemus. 

\Both  men  subside.     PROFESSOR  at  i,.,  DAMASK  at  R. 

PROF,  (aside).     That  won't  work.     (Sits  at  table,  L.) 

Nis.  (at  window}.  Oh,  dear  !  {Sighs  loudly}  it's  an  awful 
bore  !  (Comes  forward} 

MRS.  B.   (looks  round}.     What's  that? 

ANG.     Why,  Nisbe  ! 

Nis.  (coming  down,  c}.  I  said  it  was  a  bore  to  be  cooped 
up  every  evening  like  this,  at  home.  (Asidtt  to  PROFESSOR.) 
Now  get  mad. 

[PROFESSOR  turns  to  look  at  her.    DAMASK  motions  to 
Iiim. 

MRS.  B.     Well,  I  declare  ! 

Nis.  It's  worse  than  a  boarding-school.  (Aside,  to  PRO- 
FESSOR.) Go  on.  Get  mad  ! 

MRS.  B.     Mr.  Babbitt,  do  you  hear  your  daughter  ? 

PROF,  (rises,  pulling  himself  together}.  Sophonisba  !  I  — 
I  —  don't  quite  understand  you  ! 

Nis.  (aside).     More !     More ! 

PROF.  Your  tone  and  manner.  (Looks  at  watch,  and  fries 
*/>  to  window} 

Nis.  I  don't  know  what  papa  has  against  me  to-night. 
(Sits  in  chair,  c.,  pretending  to  cry.}  Only  a  few  minutes  ago 
I  asked  him,  in  the  most  casual  manner,  whether  it  was  true 
that  the  Hindoos  burn  their  mothers-in-law  on  the  eve  of 
marriage  (MRS.  BABBITT  starts  up},  and  he  flared  up  and 
wanted  to  send  me  out  of  the  room. 

PROF.     Nisbe,  how  dare  you  ? 

Nis.  But  I'm  no  longer  a  child,  and  I  won't  stand  such 
treatment.  (Goes  L.) 

DAM.   (asii',\  R.,  to  PROFESSOR).     Now  give  it  to  her. 

MRS.  B.     Sophonisba ! 

PROF,  (wo  i  'king  himself  into  wrath}.  Oh,  ho  !  You  won't 
stand  it,  eh  ?  We'll  see  !  Go  to  your  room  this  instant,  — • 


A  Night  Off?  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         73 

no,  go  to  mine,  and  don't  show  yourself  again  this  even- 
ing. (NiSBE  blubbers?)  Do  you  hear,  miss  ?  Go  1  (to 
others}  and  nobody's  to  go  near  her.  We'll  see  whether 
you'll  stand  it. 

MRS.  B.  (R.  c.,  expostulating).     But,  my  dear  — 

NlS.  (crossing,  pretending  to  cry,  but  aside).  Go  on;  don't 
let  up  on  me ! 

ANG.    O  papa !    (MRS.  BABBITT  and  ANGELICA  come  down?) 

PROF,   {waving  them  off}.     March  !     Go  to  my  room  ! 

Nis.  (sobbing  violently).  Such  treatment !  in  this  house  I 
oh  1  oh  !  oh  !  (EXITS,  L.  D.,  sobbing?) 

ANG.  (crosses  to  L.  c.).     Poor  Nisbe ! 

PROK.  (pretending  fury).  What  business  have  you  to  in- 
terfere? [ANGELICA  goes  to  MRS.  BABBITT. 

DAM.  (L.,  pretending  anger).  Stop,  Mr.  Babbitt !  Let's 
have  no  more  of  this.  It's  no  concern  of  mine,  perhaps, 
how  you  treat  Nisbe;  but  when  you  insult  my  wife  —  1 

PROF.     Hold  your  tongue ! 

MRS.  B.     Justinian ! 

PROF.     You,  too! 

MRS.  B.     Why,  what  has  come  over  you? 

PROF,  (lashitig  himself  into  a  fury).  You  are  all  leagued 
together.  Whenever  I  am  really  and  truly  comfortable,  and 
promise  myself  a  peaceful  evening  at  my  own  fireside,  you 
drive  at  me  like  a  nest  of  hornets,  on  the  least  provocation. 
But,  very  well !  (Seizes  his  hat  and  coat,  winks  at  DAMASK, 
aside?)  Very  well !  If  I  can't  open  my  mouth  in  my  own 
house  —  if  I'm  driven  out  like  an  interloper,  I'll  go  1  I  won't 
be  in  your  way  any  longer  !  I'll  go  ! 

[DAMASK  runs  up  to  PROFESSOR,  and  tries  to  pass 
him. 

DAM.     Me  first  1 

PROF.     No,  no  ;  you  look  out  for  yourself. 

DAM.     But  — 

PROF.     I'll  go  1     (EXITS,  L.  c.) 


74          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac* 

[DAMASK  drops  into  chair  despondently. 

MRS.  B.  (c.).     Children,  what  is  the  matter  with  him  ? 

ANG.  (c.).     It's  terrible  I 

MRS.  B.    Where  has  he  gone  ?    What  will  become  of  him  ? 

DAM.  I  had  better  look  after  him.  Who  knows  what  may 
happen !  Angy,  where's  my  hat  ? 

ANG.     Here!     (Gets  it  for  him  from  table,  c.) 

MRS.  B.     Run  quickly  ;  he  may  get  out  of  sight  1 

DAM.     No  fear  1     I'll  find  him.     (EXITS,  L.  c.) 

MRS.  B.   (sinks  in  chair  at  L.  table).    Oh  ! 

ANG.  (in  seat,  R.).  Was  anything  ever  so  dreadful !  —  and 
so  sudden  1 

MRS.  B.     These  men  are  perfectly  senseless. 

ANG.  (on  her  dignity).  You  refer  only  to  papa,  I  suppose. 
My  husband  shows  his  goodness  of  heart  by  running  after 
him. 

MRS.  B.  Your  husband  shouldn't  have  meddled  with  him 
at  first,  and  things  wouldn't  have  gone  so  far. 

ANG.  That's  very  unjust,  mamma!  Harry's  the  most  gen- 
erous of  men. 

MRS.  B.  Of  course  !  Especially  when  he  runs  up  bills  he 
can't  pay,  for  some  unworthy  creatures. 

ANG.  (hotly).  You  forgave  him,  and  promised  never  to 
speak  of  it  again.  (Rises  and  goes  up  to  sofa,  c.)  I  couldn't 
have  believed  it  of  you. 

MRS.  B.  Don't  bother  me.  I  don't  wish  to  have  any  more 
words  on  the  subject. 

ANG.     Nor  I.     (Picks  up  "  Life,"  and  opens  it.) 

MRS.  B.  (during  a  short  pause  which  follows,  exhibits  petu> 
lance,  anger,  and  depression.  Fidgets,  and  is  altogether  nervous  ; 
suddenly).  Ugh ! 

ANG.  (who  has  been  reading  "  Life, "  makes  an  outcry), 
Well,  I  — !  (Then  starts  up,  still  reading  paper?)  Mamma  ! 

MRS.  B.  (drops  her  work  and  turns).     What  is  it  ? 

ANG.     This  is  monstrous!     (Comes  down  to   MRS.   BAP 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.          75 

BITT.)  We  have  been  deceived!  —  outraged!  They  are 
laughing  at  us. 

MRS.  B.     Who  ?     What  ? 

ANG.     Papa  and  my  husband.     It  was  a  trick. 

MRS.  B.     What  do  you  mean? 

ANG.  Here's  the  whole  thing  in  this  paper.  Listen  to 
It.  (Reads.)  "  When  our  old  friend  Slyboots  wishes  to 
have  a  night  out  without  his  wife,  he  concocts  a  little  plot 
with  his  son-in-law.  At  a  given  signal,  the  latter  asserts 
that  it  is  the  practice  of  the  Hindoos  to  burn  their  mothers- 
in-law  on  the  eve  of  their  marriage." 

MRS.  B.   (appalled).     Angelica! 

ANG.  (reading).  "  Slyboots  disputes  the  statement ;  the 
two  gentlemen  engage  in  a  violent  quarrel,  in  the  course  of 
which  Mr.  Slyboots  pretends  to  get  so  enraged  that  he 
snatches  up  his  hat  and  runs  out  of  the  house,  and  his  son- 
in-law  follows  to  apologize."  Just  as  papa  did. 

MRS.  B.     It's  an  outrage  !     A  conspiracy! 

ANG.  Of  course  !  You  remember  how  papa  flared  up  at 
Nisbe  without  reason  ? 

MRS.  B.  To  be  sure.  And  he  sent  the  poor  child  out  of 
the  room. 

ANG.     My  dear  innocent  sister  ! 

MRS.  B.  (calling  off,  room  L.).  Nisbe !  Nisbe,  darling ! 
Come  here,  my  child.  (EXITS,  L.  D.) 

ANG.  (calling  off,  also).  You  needn't  stay  there  any 
longer.  Come  and  sit  with  us. 

MRS.  BABBITT  RE-ENTERS  after  a  shriek. 

MRS.  B.  Angelica  !  There's  no  one  in  the  room.  She's 
gone. 

ANG.     It  can't  be,  mamma  !     (Rushes  off',  L.  D.) 
MRS.  B.     The  back  door's  open,  too! 

ANGELICA  RE-ENTERS, 


76          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac 

ANG.     She  has  run  off. 

MRS.  B.  (screams).     Now,  I  think  of  it ! 

ANG.  (L.).     What,  mamma? 

MRS.  B.  (R.).     Nisbe  is  in  the  plot. 

ANG.  True!  It  was  she  commenced  about  the  Hindoo 
mothers-in-law. 

MRS.  B.     Oh,  the  wretched  child  ! 

ANG.     Deceitful  husband ! 

MRS.  B.     Your  conscienceless  father ! 

ANG.  (half  weeping).  And  Harry  promised  me  on  this 
spot,  not  ten  minutes  ago,  never  to  tell  me  an  untruth  again. 
Mamma,  this  breaks  my  heart !  (In  her  arms.} 

MRS.  B.  My  poor  child !  Chained  for  life  to  a  man  who 
begins  by  deceiving  you.  You  are,  indeed,  to  be  pitied. 

\READ  Y  MULBERRY,  to  enter  L.  c.  with  ANGELICA. 

ANG.  No,  mamma !  You  are  most  to  be  pitied.  To 
have  papa  end  by  deceiving  you.  Poor  mamma ! 

MRS.  B.     My  poor  daughter  !     (They  embraced) 

[  The  door-bell  is  heard  to  ring. 

ANG.     There's  the  front  door-bell. 

MRS.  B.  (becoming  rigid  and  sarcastic).  Ah!  They're  com- 
ing back ! 

ANG.  (stiffening  up}.  We'll  give  them  the  reception  they 
deserve  !  \Bell  rings  again. 

MRS.  B.     Why  doesn't  Susan  open  the  door  ? 

ANG.  (runs  to  L.  c.,  and  calls).  Susan!  (Listens,  and  then 
calls  again.}  Susan  !  (Turns.}  Susan's  gone  out,  too. 

\Bell. 
It's  as  good  as  a  play.  \Bell  again. 

MRS.  B.     What  is  going  to  happen  next  ? 

ANG.     I'll  open  the  door  myself.     (EXITS,  L.  c.) 

MRS.  B.  I'll  remember  this  night  as  long  as  I  live  1 
(Listens,  L.  C.) 

MULBERRY  (outside}.     Professor  Babbitt ! 

ANG.  (outside).     My  father  ? 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         77 

MRS.  B.     A  strange  voice  ! 

ANGELICA  RE-ENTERS,  preceding,  in  some  alarm,  LORD 

MULBERRY,  who  is  over  polite.     Both  ladies  much 

frightened. 

A.  stranger  !  What  do  you  wish,  sir  ?  {She  and  ANGELICA 
cling  together?) 

MULBERRY  (L.).  Excuse  me,  ladies,  I'm  looking  for  Pro- 
fessor Babbitt. 

MRS.  B.     My  husband  !     I'm  sorry  he's  not  in. 

MUL.     My  name  is  —  ahem  —  Mulberry. 

MRS.  B.     Mul  — 

ANG.     Berry. 

MUL.     From   England.      At   present    stopping    in   New 


MRS.  B.     I'm  very  glad  to  see  you.    (Recovering,  and  aside 
to  ANGELICA.)     He  seems  to  be  a  gentlemanly  person. 

ANG.  (aside,  R.).     Yes,  but  he  is  so  cyaeer.     Look  how  he 
smiles  and  stares  at  us. 

MUL.     Your  husband,  no  doubt,  has  told  you  a  great  deal 
about  my  -affairs. 

MRS.   B.   (sardonic  laugh}.     My  husband  never  tells  me 
anything.     I  have  to  find  out  everything  by  chance. 

MUL.   (aside).     Singular  person  !    The  Professor  described 
his  wife    as    possessing  remarkable   sweetness  of   manner. 
(Aloud.}     Strictly  speaking,  I  came  to  see  your  son-in-law, 
Dr.  Damask. 
*   ANG.  (crosses  to  him,  advancing  a  step}.     My  husband  ? 

MUL.     Oh,  he's   your   husband  !     Well,   I've  just  come 
from  your  house.     They  told  me  he  was  here. 

ANG.  (dryly).     I'm  sorry.     He's  not  in,  either. 

MUL.     And  I  am  sorry,  very  sorry. 

ANG.     If  you  wish  to  consult  him  —  his  office  hours  are 
from  five  to  six.     It's  now  after  eight. 

MUL.    (aside).     She   seems  to  be  a  little   excited,   too. 


78          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

Takes  after  her  mother,  probably.  (Aloud.}  Excuse  me, 
ladies;  as  I  haven't  much  time  to  spare,  I'll  go  after  thu 
gentlemen.  Where  can  I  find  them  ? 

MRS.  B.  (shrugs  her  shoulders).     We  don't  know. 

MUL.     And  when  will  they  be  back  ? 

ANG.  (crosses  to  c.).     We  don't  know  that,  either. 

MUL.  (aside).  A  most  singular  family.  (Aloud.}  Then 
there's  nothing  left  but  to  wait  for  them.  (Sits.}  I  don't 
intrude,  do  I  ? 

MRS.  B.  (crosses  to  c.,  as  ANGELICA  again  clings  to  her). 
But,  what  do  you  want  ?  (She  speaks  tremblingly} 

\_The  terror  of  the  two  ladies  must  not  be  exaggerated. 

MUL.  (affected}.  It's  about  my  misguided  son.  The  Pro- 
fessor told  you  all  about  him  ? 

MRS.  B.  Not  a  word!  (To  ANGELICA.)  The  man's  £,n 
impostor  ;  we  must  get  rid  of  him.  (Gets  behind  ANGELICA.) 

MUL.  (at  table,  seated,  L.,  to  ANGELICA).  The  doctor  told 
you,  of  course  ? 

ANG.     He  did  not. 

MUL.  (rising.  Se^erely  to  both}.  That  is  incomprehen- 
sible to  me.  The  doctor  wrote  me  a  letter  four  pages  long 
about  the  scamp.  I  received  it  yesterday,  and  flew  here  to 
see  the  boy. 

MRS.  B.  Indeed  !  (Aside,  to  ANGELICA.)  We  haven't  a 
soul  to  send  for  a  policeman. 

MUL.  You  must  know  that  the  rascal  has  played  the 
most  incredible  pranks.  For  two  years  I  haven't  heard  a 
word  of  him.  And  now  your  husband  writes  me  that  he  is 
in  this  place,  reduced  to  extremity,  and  praying  for  pardon. 
(Deeply  affected  and  sinking  in  chair.}  My  poor  Jack  ! 

ANG.  (aside,  to  MRS.  BABBITT).  I'll  slip  out,  mamma,  and 
call  a  neighbor. 

MRS.  B.     Don't  leave  me  !     (Grasps  her} 

MUL.  (to  MRS.  BABBITT).  I  knew  how  it  would  end.  Hj 
began  by  a  series  of  low  attachments  :  first  with  or^  public 


A  Night  Off  j  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         79 

character  and  then  another.  Wasted  his  time,  his  money, 
his  friends,  and  my  patience.  Collected  a  number  of  rings, 
photographs,  and  unpaid  bills. 

MRS.  B.  (suddenly  interested'}.     What? 

MUL.  Ruined  himself,  and  finally  bolted  to  America. 
{Crosses  to  R.) 

ANG.  (open  stage).  Mamma,  this  case  is  exactly  like 
Harry's  1 

MUL.  (crosses  to  c.  between  the  two  ;  produces  the  pocket-book 
of  Act  II.).  You  doubt  it ;  look  here  1  Evidence  furnished 
by  himself. 

ANG.  (screams').    Gracious  heavens  !    Harry's  pocket-book. 

MRS.  B.     How  did  you  come  by  this  ? 

MUL.  It  belongs  to  my  son.  He  sent  it  to  me  through 
your  daughter's  husband. 

MRS.  B.  (appalled}.     Oh  I 

ANG.     Are  you  sure  ? 

MUL.  Oh,  I  can  verify  the  vouchers.  .(Opens  book  and 
produces  articles.)  Here's  a  picture  of  my  son's  enchant- 
ress. I've  seen  the  hussy.  (Puts photo  on  table?)  Here's  a 
lock  of  her  hair.  She  wears  a  wig  now.  Her  ring.  And 
here  are  the  bills  I'm  going  to  pay.  (Crosses  to  R.) 

ANG.     Mamma,  did  you  hear  ? 

MRS.  B.     With  our  money  ! 

ANG.  (to  MRS.  BABBITT).  My  husband  invented  another 
falsehood.  Palmed  somebody's  adventures  off  for  his  own  ! 
(Struck.)  Unless  —  (Seizes  MULBERRY.)  Is  my  husband 
your  son  ?  (Turns  away  bewildered,  up  stage.)  Oh,  no,  no  ! 
This  is  madness. 

MUL.  (looks  at  both  astonished).  It  certainly  is.  (Crosses 
to  c.) 

MRS.  B.  (L.,  takes  up  the  photo).  But  I  saw  and  spoke 
with  the  uncle  of  that  girl. 

MUL.  Uncle !  (Takes  the  photo.)  She  never  had  an 
uncle.  (Puts  articles  in  pocket-book.) 


80          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

ANG.     Another  falsehood  1     (Throws  herself  into  chair^ 

MRS.  B.  (in  chair].  To  make  a  fool  of  me  before  a 
stranger  1 

ANG.     O  mother  !  \READ  Y  NISBE,  to  enter  L.  c. 

MRS.  B.     My  poor  child! 

MUL.  (looks  at  both  with  a  knowing  air}.  They  begin  to 
make  me  feel  uncomfortable.  Something's  wrong  here. 
(.Retreating  nervously  up  c.)  Excuse  me,  ladies.  Had  I 
seen  that  the  story  of  my  misguided  Jack  would  have  ex- 
cited you  so  — 

ANG.  (starts  up  furiously).  What  do  we  care  for  your 
Jack? 

MRS.  B.  (seizes  MULBERRY).  One  word!  Do  you  know 
Camille  ? 

MUL.  Camille  !  No  ;  let  me  go  !  (Tottering  c.)  I  must 
get  out  of  this,  or  I'll  lose  my  reason  !  It's  a  family  of 
lunatics  !  (EXITS,  L.  c.)  \_READ  Y  SUSAN,  to  enter  L.  c. 

ANG.  (resolutely,  and  striding  across  the  room).  Mamma  ! 
first  of  all,  I'll  get  a  divorce  from  Harry  !  Open,  persistent, 
and  incessant  falsehood  must  be  sufficient  cause. 

MRS.  B.  Quite  right,  my  child  !  But  he  shall  account  to 
me  first.  {Bell  heard. 

ANG.  (screams}.     Ah,  there  he  is  1     (Runs  up,  c.) 

MRS.  B.     Just  in  time  !     (Crosses  to  R.) 

NISBE  ENTERS,  L.  c.,  and  rushes  weeping  into 
ANGELICA'S  arms. 


ANG.     Nisbe  I  is  it  you? 
MRS.  B.  (R.).     Where  have  you  been  ?  [NISBE  sobs. 

ANG.     What  has  happened  ?  [NiSBE  sobs. 

MRS.  B.     What  are  you  crying  for? 

Nis.  (crosses  to  c.).    Oh,  it's  horrible  !     (Sobbing.}    Let  me 
be  !     Let  me  be  ! 

ANG.     Mamma,  she's  trembling  all  over. 
MRS.  B.     What's  the  matter  ? 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         8J 

ANG,        |  Nisbe ! 

MRS.  B.   \  (!°gether)'     Speak,  can't  you? 

{READ  Y  DAMASK  and  PROFESSOR,  to  enter  L.  c. 
Nis.  (so&s).    I  can't  1    (Sots.)    Oh,  it  was  dreadful !    (Out- 
burst  of  sobs) 
ANG.    Mamma,  she  goes  on  as  if  she  had  seen  something. 

SUSAN,  L.  c..,  first  heard  howling  outside,  now  ENTERS. 

SUSAN.  Oh,  oh,  oh  !  (Throws  herself  in  chair,  L.,  rocking 
herself) 

MRS.  B.  You,  too;  what  is  it?  (Crosses  to  her  and  back 
to  R.) 

SUSAN.     Oh,  I  can't  tell  you.     It's  too  horrible. 

Nis.  (crosses  to  L.  c.).     O  Susan,  were  you  there  ? 

SUSAN.     I  was  !     Oh,  oh,  oh  ! 

Nis.     Wasn't  it  awful  ?     Oh,  oh,  oh  ! 

ANG.     Come,  Nisbe  !     Come  to  your  room  !    Tell  me  all ! 

Nis.  (is  led  off,  R.).  Oh,  oh  !  That  I  should  live  to  see  it ! 
Oh,  oh,  oh  !  Poor  papa !  (EXITS,  R.,  with  ANGELICA.) 

MRS.  B.  (calls  after  them).  Put  her  to  bed.  (To  SUSAN.) 
Run  to  the  kitchen  1  Bring  a  cup  of  hot  tea,  quick ! 

SUSAN.  Yes'm.  Oh,  oh  !  Poor  Mr.  Babbitt !  Oh,  oh,  oh ! 
Poor  Professor  !  (EXITS,  L.  c.) 

[READ  Y  ANGELICA,  to  enter  R. 

MRS.  B.  What  can  it  mean  !  [NiSBE  heard  crying  off^. 
I'll  get  the  hot  drops  !  (EXITS,  L.) 

When  the  stage  is  empty,  DAMASK  puts  in  his  head,  L.  c.,  looks 
round,  then  puts  off  his  hand  and  drags  on  the  PROFESSOR. 

DAM.     Now  you're  all  right.     Nobody  here,  fortunately. 

PROF,  (staggers  to  seat,  c.).  Harry,  I  can't  walk!  My 
knees  are  tottering.  \He  is  led  to  seat,  C. 

Wasn't  it  terrible  ?  (Drops  into  chair) 

DAM.  Compose  yourself.  All  may  not  be  lost,  if  the  audi 
ence  did  hiss  a  little  in  the  first  act. 


82          A  Night  Off;. or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

PROF.  Hiss  a  little  !  At  one  time  I  thought  sixty  steam- 
pipes  had  burst  upon  me,  all  of  a  sudden,  and  all  at  once. 
No,  no !  my  kind-hearted  boy,  you  needn't  try  to  console  me  ! 
It  wasn't  the  hissing  ;  they  laughed  —  laughed  out  loud  at  my 
tragedy !  {READY  MRS.  BABBITT,  to  enter,  L.  D. 

DAM.     But,  Professor  — 

PROF.  There  was  one  boy  in  the  gallery  with  a  whistle  ; 
that  whistle  will  vibrate  in  my  ears  till  I  die. 

DAM.  Don't  take  it  so  to  heart,  and  speak  lower.  Cou.- 
age  !  Hush  1  somebody's  coming  ! 

ANGELICA  runs  in  from  R. 

ANG.  Mamma,  where  is  the  —  (Sees  the  others?)  Ah  ! 
(Stands  and  stares  at  them.) 

DAM.  (crosses  to  her,  affecting  nonchalance,  and  with  exagger- 
ated kindness).  Well,  darling,  what  are  you  looking  for? 

ANG.  (looks  at  him  from  top  to  toe ;  then).  I  am  looking  for 
my  mother,  sir.  (EXITS,  L.  c.) 

DAM.  (stares  after  her,  then  turns  to  PROFESSOR).  She's 
looking  —  for  —  her  —  mother ! 

PROF,  (rises}.     Sir ! 

DAM.     I  don't  like  that  look. 

PROF.     Hush  1  my  wife ! 

MRS.  BABBITT  ENTERS  hurriedly,  from  L.  D. 

MRS.  B.  Here  are  the  drops  !  (She  has  a  small  vial  in  her 
hand ;  sees  them,  and  stops  suddenly?)  Oh  ! 

[READ  Y  SNAP,  to  enter  L.  c. 

PROF,  (goes  to  her  very  affably).     What  drops,  darling  ? 

MRS.  B.  (looks  him  all  over).  Drops  for  my  daughter! 
(Crosses  to  him.)  But  I'll  see  you  again  later,  Mr.  Babbitt; 
depend  on  that !  (EXITS,  R.  D.) 

PROF.  (L.).     They  know  everything  ! 

DAM.  What  if  they  do  ?  What  do  they  know  ?  What  do 
we  know  ?  Who  knows  how  the  play's  gone  on  since  we  left  ? 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         83 

You  would  bolt  at  the  end  of  the  first  act.  The  others  may 
go  off  like  fireworks. 

PROF,  (shakes  his  head  very  dubiously).  I  think  I  hear 
them  fizzing  now. 

DAM.  Why,  you  said  all  along  that  all  the  acts  were 
better  than  the  first.  Take  that  situation  at  the  end  of  the 
second  act.  That  must  please  the  boys. 

PROF.     Not  that  boy  with  the  whistle.     (Crosses  to  R.) 

DAM.  Nonsense  !  Let's  go  back  to  the  theatre  and  see. 
You  may  be  called  out ! 

PROF.     Yes,  by  the  police  ! 

DAMASK  is  about  to  lead  him  off,  L.  c.,  when  SNAP  is  heard  to 
utter  a  loud  "  Oh  ! "  outside,  a  second  one  in  the  archway  ; 
he  then  comes  forward  in  his  long  ulster,  the  collar  turned 
up,  and  hat  over  his  eyes. 

SNAP.     O  Professor  1     Professor,  Oh  1 

PROF.     Speak,  man  !     What  is  it  ? 

DAM.     How  is  it  going  ? 

SNAP.  It's  all  over !  (Lamenting,  beating  his  head  and 
knees.)  It's  all  over ! 

PROF.     I  knew  it.     (Sinks.) 

[DAMASK  holds  him  up  by  the  armpits. 

SNAP  (starting  up).  When  I  think  of  this  happening  to 
me  in  my  pld  age  ! 

DAM.     Tell  us  all  about  it. 

SNAP.  I've  been  a  manager  twenty-five  years,  but  I 
never  had  such  a  failure  as  that. 

PROF.   (Jeebh).     How  did  it  end  ? 

SNAP.  How  did  it  end  ?  It  ended  in  a  riot !  That's  how 
it  ended. 

PROF.     A  —  a  —  riot !     (Sinks  in  chair) 

SNAP.  We  had  to  ring  down  in  the  middle  of  the  second 
act.  I  never  heard  such  hissing  and  whistling  on  a  railroad 
train.  The  audience  jumped  up  and  down  like  madmen, 


84          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

and  shouted  and  guyed !     I  can  hear  'em  now,  on  my  en 
trance,  "  Bully  for  Titus  Tatius  ! "     Oh  ! 

[READY  MRS.  BABBITT,  to  enter  R. 

PROF,  (staggers  to  a  seat,  c.).    It  must  have  been  horrible. 

SNAP.  But  half  the  calamity  was  your  fault,  Doctor.  The 
tragedy  was  not  all  to  blame.  It  was  your  parrot  (crosses  to 
htm)  capped  the  climax.  The  pine  grove  is  in  the  second 
act,  you  remember,  and  Cassius  had  just  come  on,  and  the 
audience  was  quiet,  for  they  took  to  him  at  once.  I  was 
standing  in  the  centre,  as  King  Titus  Tatius,  with  my  arms 
folded,  just  so,  glaring  at  the  Roman  soldiers,  and  my  wife 
had  just  finished  Virgia's  great  speech,  defying  the  haughty 
Romulus  :  — 


"  What  would'st  thou,  king, 
Thy  stubborn  silence  break, 
What  would'st  thou, 
Tyrant !  answer,  speak !  " 


when  your  confounded  parrot  squeaked  at  the  top  of  his 
voice  (crosses  to  L.)  :  "  Kiss  me,  darling."  (PROFESSOR,  hor- 
rified, starts  up  stage,  sits  on  the  steps,  and  buries  his  face  in  his 
hands.}  Of  course  that  settled  it.  The  audience  rolled  off 
their  seats ;  the  boxes  emptied  like  one  man,  screaming  with 
laughter ;  and  the  gallery  broke  into  a  row,  when  my  eldest 
daughter  had  presence  of  mind  enough  to  lower  the  curtain. 
What  has  happened  since  I  don't  know,  for  I  threw  on  my 
ulster  and  fled  through  the  stage  door,  and  here  I  am. 

PROF,  (rises}.     Oh,  dear !     If   it   leaks   out   now  that   I 
wrote  the  piece,  I'll  have  to  leave  the  town. 

[READ  Y  SUSAN,  with  tea  and  cups,  to  enter  L.  c. 

DAM.     Sh !     Mamma ! 

SNAP.     The  old  lady !     The  deuce  ! 

PROF.     Not  a  word  before  her. 

MRS.  BABBITT  ENTERS,  R. 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  BaUac.         85 

MRS.  B.  Now,  Mr.  Babbitt  (Sees  SNAP.)  Ah,  you  are 
here  again,  are  you?  (Looks  at  DAMASK.)  The  uncle,  I  be- 
lieve ?  (Crosses  R.  c.  To  SNAP.)  Whose  uncle  ? 

[SNAP  advances  to  her. 

DAM.  You  are  mistaken,  mamma.  This  is  quite  another 
person. 

MRS.  B.  (to  DAMASK).  I  am  quite  aware  of  that,  sir! 
Don't  you  interfere  !  (To  SNAP.)  Who  are  you,  sir,  and 
what  do  you  want  here? 

SNAP  (L.  c.).     Madame,  I  — 

PROF,  (aside,  L.).     Keep  still ! 

DAM.  I  must  interfere.  You  are  laboring  under  a  delu- 
sion. This  is  Professor  Polhemus,  from  New  York. 

PROF,  first,  and  then  SNAP  (grasping  at  the  idea).  Yes, 
Professor  Polhemus,  of  New  York. 

DAM.  You  remember  we  were  invited  to  meet  him  this 
evening. 

SUSAN  ENTERS,  L.C.,  with  tea  and  cups,  which  she  puts 
on  table,  L. 

SUSAN  (sobbing).     Here's  the  tea,  ma'am. 
MRS.  B.    Well,  then,  Professor  Polhemus,  from  New  York, 
make  yourself  at  home.      Take  a  cup  of  tea.      (Crosses  to 
table,  L.)  [READY curtain. 

PROF,  and  DAM.  Yes,  make  yourself  at  home,  Professor  I 
(Both  assist  him?)  Take  off  your  coat.  Give  me  your  hat. 
Sit  down,  Professor. 

[As  they  unrobe  him,  he  is  discovered  in  fitll  Roman 
costume,  —  white  tunic,  belt,  fleshings,  bare  arms ; 
but  on  his  feet  are  old  street  gaiters. 

MRS.  B.  (screams,  and  drops  the  cup  she  was  about  to  offer 
him).  What's  this  ? 

\_Her  screams  bring  ANGELICA  and  NISBE  to  doort  R. 
and  c.  General  dismay  and 

QUICK   CURTAIN. 


86          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 


ACT  IV, 

SCENE.  —  Same  as  Act  III. 

SNAP  is  discovered  asleep  in  the  alcove  at  back,  a  large 
rug  thrown  over  him.  The  PROFESSOR  is  writing 
at  table,  L.  He  looks  very  much  disordered  and 
played  out.  Is  writing  as  the  curtain  rise*< 
READ  Y  SUSAN,  with  breakfast  on  tray,  to  enter 
L.  c. 

PROFESSOR  (laying  down  his  peri).  That's  done.  I've 
asked  for  leave  of  absence  from  duty  at  the  college.  I 
could  not  face  those  boys.  \Knock  heard 

My  wife  !  (Goes  to  door,  R.)  Is  that  you,  Zippy  ? 

SUSAN  (outside).     No  ;  it's  I,  Professor.     Open  the  door. 

PROF,  (unlocks  door}.     What  do  you  want  ? 

SUSAN  ENTERS,  L.  c.,  bringing  in  tray,  with  breakfast. 

SUSAN.  I've  brought  some  breakfast,  Professor.  (Puts 
tray  on  the  table.} 

PROF.     I  don't  want  any  breakfast. 

SUSAN.  That  won't  do.  Look  in  the  glass  and  see  how 
haggard  you  are.  Have  a  cup  of  coffee,  anyway. 

SNAP  (sitting  up}.     Might  I  ask  for  a  cup,  too  ? 

SUSAN.     Jiminy !     What's  that? 

SNAP  (rises  and  comes  down.  Has  on  trousers  and  a  coal 
much  too  small  f>r  him  ;  no  shirt,  but  the  Roman  breastplate  in 
its  stead}.  Don't  get  frightened  ;  it's  only  me. 

SUSAN  (R.).  Why,  Mr.  Snap,  what  are  }rou  doing 
there  ? 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.          87 

SNAP.  I've  been  stranded  on  the  sofa  all  night,  and  the 
Professor  helped  me  out  with  his  wardrobe.  I  didn't  dare 
to  go  home  to  my  wife  after  that  horrible  fiasco. 

SUSAN  (crosses  c.  to  PROFESSOR).  Now,  you  haven't  been 
in  bed,  either. 

PROF.  (L.,  waking  up}.  I  spent  the  night  in  that  arm- 
chair. 

SUSAN.     It's  awful !     And  you  won't  take  breakfast  ? 

PROF.     I  can't.     I'm  full  now  —  of  trouble. 

SNAP.  If  you  don't  mind,  I'll  help  myself.  I  must  fortify 
myself  against  my  first  meeting  with  my  wife.  (Pours  out 
coffee,  and  eats,  R.) 

PROF,  (aside).  I  don't  dare  even  think  of  my  wife.  (To 
SUSAN,  aside.)  Susan,  has  she  given  you  any  message  ? 

SUSAN  (c.).  Nothing,  sir.  Oh,  she's  in  such  a  rage  ! 
We  all  caught  it  last  night.  First,  Miss  Nisbe  ;  then  I. 
Missus  talked  to  me  as  if  I'd  written  the  play  myself,  and  it 
was  all  my  fault.  Well,  I  had  my'doubts  when  you  were 
reading  it.  I  like  sad  things  at  the  theatre,  but  that  was 
too  sad.  It  was  too  miserable  ! 

[READ  Y  JACK,  to  enter  L.  c. 

SNAP.  You  don't  know  anything  about  it.  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  that  parrot  1  You'll  see  when  we  play  it  the  second 
time. 

PROF.  You  don't  imagine  for  one  moment  I'd  ever  let 
the  piece  be  played  again  ? 

SNAP.     Why  not?     Let's  talk  calmly. 

PROF.  The  manuscript  shall  be  burnt ;  that  settles  it.  I 
hope  nobody  in  the  city  knows  I'm  the  author. 

SNAP.  Rest  easy.  Nothing  can  be  got  out  of  my  wife, 
and  as  for  me  — 

PROF.  I  depend  upon  you.  I  quit  town  to-day,  if  I  get 
the  leave  of  absence  I've  written  for. 

SNAP.     But,  my  dear  Professor — 

PROF.     Not  another  word.     I'm  going  to  pack   up   my 


88          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

things.     Susan,  bring  my  sole-leather  trunk  down  from  the 
garret.     (EXIT,  L.  D.) 

SUSAN  (sobbing  and  gathering  the  breakfast  things  together). 
He  was  such  a  kind  master,  and  to  think  the  like  should 
happen  to  him  in  his  old  days  I  (EXIT,  L.  c.) 

JACK  ENTERS,  L.  c.,  hurriedly. 

JACK.  Oh,  there  you  are,  at  last !  Been  searching  for 
you  everywhere.  I've  a  most  important  communication. 

SNAP.  If  it's  anything  exciting,  have  the  goodness  to 
break  it  to  me  gently.  I'm  not  toned  up  for  a  surprise. 

JACK.  My  father  arrived  here  yesterday.  I  spent  the 
•whole  night  with  him,  and  we  had  a  complete  reconciliation. 
I  shall  leave  for  home  with  him  to-day. 

SNAP.     How  long  a  leave  of  absence  do  you  want  ? 

JACK.  My  dear  fellow,  it  is  not  a  question  of  leave  of 
absence.  I  wish  to  tender  my  resignation,  and  say  good-by 
to  the  stage  forever. 

SNAP  (utterly  crushed,  sinks  bacfc).  That  —  that  was  the 
only  thing  wanted.  (Starts  up,  but  with  difficulty,  on  account 
of  his  tight  dress.)  You  can't  go  —  you  are  indispensable. 
(Crosses,  L.)  I  don't  refer  to  your  talent,  but  to  your  unap- 
proachably aristocratic  wardrobe,  and  your  nationality.  I 
tell  you,  I've  been  a  manager  for  twenty-five  years,  and  I 
never  had  a  leading  man  before  with  eight  suits  of  clothes. 
How  can  we  give  a  society  play  if  you  go  off  with  your  dress 
suit  and  your  crush  hat  ? 

JACK.     My  dear  Snap  — 

SNAP.  No  false  modesty !  Your  things  fit  every  one  of 
the  company  like  gloves.  Even  my  wife  made  an  immense 
hit  as  Nan,  the  Good  for  Nothing,  in  your  velvet  jacket. 

JACK.  We  can  easily  settle  that  objection.  I'll  leave  you 
my  theatrical  wardrobe  as  a  souvenir. 

SNAP  (with  feeling).     Mr.  Chumley,  you  have  not  only  a 


A  Night  Off  j  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.          89 

true  society  manner,  but  a  genuine  respect  for  art.    I  admire 
you  and  I  thank  you. 

JACK.  That  is  not  all.  My  father  happens  to  own  Jhe 
ground  upon  which  they  put  up  the  new  Frivolity  Theatre, 
in  London. 

SNAP.  London  !  The  birthplace  of  Shakespeare  !  Oh  ! 
—  but  go  on. 

JACK.  If  you  release  me  gracefully,  you  shall  be  installed 
as  manager. 

\_READ  Y  NISBE,  with  large  valise,  and  SUSAN,  with 
basket,  to  enter  L.  c. 

SNAP.  Manager !  In  London  !  It  has  been  the  dream 
of  my  life  to  manage  a  theatre  in  London  —  or  anywhere, 
for  a  whole  season.  You  are  discharged  on  the  spot. 

JACK.     Well,  then,  it's  settled? 

SNAP.  I  should  say  so  !  But  you  must  come  with  me  to 
my  wife ;  you  must  be  there  when  I  tell  her  about  the 
theatre.  You'll  see  what  joy  means.  That  unapproachable 
woman  has  borne  our  privations  with  resignation  and  cour- 
age, but  I  know  that  it  has  long  been  the  secret  hope  of  her 
heart  to  be  able  to  stay  in  one  place  for  more  than  "  six 
nights  only."  Come,  we'll  go  to  her  together. 

JACK  (hesitating).  I'll  follow  you  later.  I'd  like  to  say 
good-by  to  this  family  first. 

SNAP.  Very  proper.  The  Professor  is  in  there.  (Points, 
L.-D.) 

JACK  (crosses  to  L.).  Thank  you.  I'll  knock.  (Goes  to 
door  and  is  about  to  knock,  when  he  hears  NISBE'S  voiced) 

NISBE  (outside).     This  way,  Susan.     In  here. 

JACK  (aside).     Oh,  there  she  is. 

SNAP.     Well,  why  don't  you  knock? 

[JACK  imposes  silence  by  a  gesture  as 

NISBE  ENTERS,  L.  c.,  with  a  large  valise,  SUSAN  following 
with  a  basket. 


90         A  Night  Off  j  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

NISBE  (resting,  c.).  Put  the  basket  down  yonder.  (Points 
down  R.)  I'll  pack  up  by  and  by. 

[SUSAN  puts  the  basket  down,  R.,  and  EXITS,  L.  c. 
NISBE  puts  the  -valise  down  near  alcove,  R.  c. ;  sees 
SNAP. 
Oh,  pardon  me,  I'm  looking  for  papa. 

SNAP  (up  R.).     The  Professor  is  in  that  room.    (Points  L.) 

Nis.  I  suppose  you  are  waiting  for  him.  I'll  knock  at 
his  door.  (Goes  to  L.,  and  sees  JACK.)  O  Mr.  Cassius ! 

JACK  (gets  quickly  between  her  and  the  door}.  Please,  Miss 
Nisbe,  don't  knock! 

Nis.     Why  not  ? 

JACK.  Wait  here  a  little  while  —  I  mean  —  that  is  —  you 
might  disturb  your  father  just  now.  (Comes  from  door} 

SNAP  (officiously).  Oh,  no  !  He's  only  packing  up.  I'll 
knock.  (Crosses  to  c.) 

\_As  he  goes  to  door,  JACK  and  NISBE  get  R.  and  L.  of 
him,  and  keep  him  back. 

JACK  (L.).     No,  no  ! 

Nis.  (R.).     It's  not  at  all  necessary. 

SNAP  (c.,  comprehends  the  situation.  Looks  at  both,  chuckles, 
and  then  goes ;  aside).  Oh,  I  begin  to  see.  Act  one,  scene 
two  —  the  lovers  meet !  Everything  in  this  house  is  as  good 
as  a  play.  (Aloud}  All  right !  (Crosses  to  R.)  Don't  be 
afraid.  I  won't  disturb  the  Professor.  It  would  be  down- 
right rude  of  me  when  you  two  are  decidedly  opposed  to  it. 

JACK  (confused.  Waves  him  off,  and  takes  NISBE'S  hand}. 
The  fact  is,  Miss  Nisbe,  I  have  something  very  important  to 
say  to  you. 

Nis.     Is  it  very  important  ? 

JACK  (warmly).     I  think  so  1 

Nis.  (warmly).     Really  ? 

JACK  (looks  at  his  watch}.  And  time  is  pressing.  The 
train  leaves  in  two  hours.  (Crossing  c.)  I  must  leave  for 
New  York  with  my  father  by  the  twelve  o'clock  express. 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         9J 

Nis.  (crosses  to  c.).  And  I  start  for  Boston  with  mamma 
at  12. 20. 

JACK  (looks  at  SNAP  impatiently).  Who  knows  when  we 
may  meet  again  ? 

Nis.  (crosses  to  c.,  looks  at  SNAP  impatiently,  then  says 
sadly).  Perhaps  never. 

SNAP  (bluntly).  Then  I  should  say  the  best  thing  would 
be  to  speak  right  out  now. 

JACK  (crosses  to  c.).  But,  my  dear  Snap,  what  I  have  to 
say  to  this  young  lady  must  be  said  without  witnesses. 

SNAP  (crosses  to  c.).  Then  all  I've  got  to  do  is  to  exit 
centre,  and  leave  you  together. 

Nis.  (innocently).  No,  no;  that  won't  help  us.  Even  if 
he  goes  (crossing  to  c.)  we  may  be  interrupted.  Papa  may 
come  in  any  moment. 

SNAP.     She  thinks  of  everything,  just  like  my  wife. 

Nis.   (to  JACK).     I  don't  suppose  you  could  write  to  me  ? 

JACK  (eagerly).     No  ;  that's  quite  impossible. 

SNAP  (wickedly).  Quite  impossible.  There  are  some 
things  that  can  only  be  settled  by  one's  own  lips. 

[NlSBE  crosses,  R.,  in  a  huff. 

\READ  Y  PROFESSOR,    with   valise  half  full,    iff 
enter  L.  D. 

JACK.     Of  course  ! 

Nis.  (naively).  It's  a  dreadful  plight,  isn't  it?  And  I'm 
sorry  I  can't  help  you  out.  I  have  to  go  and  pack  up  now 
in  there.  (Points  R.)  This  valise.  (Goes  towards  R.  with 
valise,  and  turns.}  Is  there  anything  so  fatiguing  as  to  have 
to  pack  a  big  valise  all  by  yourself  ? 

JACK  (goes  to  her  eagerly).  If  you  would  allow  me  to 
help  you  — 

Nis.  I  should  be  delighted.  You  know  it's  ever  so  much 
easier  to  put  in  things  while  somebody  holds  the  valise  open 
for  you. 

JACK  (takes  the  bag,  and  presses  it  to  his  heart).  Let  me 
hold  it.  I'll  do  it  with  all  my  heart. 


92          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

Nis.  (crosses  to  SNAP).     I  hope  you  will  excuse  us,  Mr. 

Snap,  but  you  see  we  haven't  a  moment  to  lose. 
JACK  (crosses  to  c.).     And  so  much  to  do. 
SNAP.     Oh,  yes,  I  know.     Well,  if  you  lose  no  time,  you 

may  catch  the  train. 

Nis.     That's  so  —  come  !     (EXITS,  R.  D.) 

JACK.     Oh,  yes.     I'm  coming.     (EXITS  after  her .) 

SNAP  (sighs).     Ah,  I  guess  he  won't  need  any  prompter 

in  the  part  he's  playing  now. 

[READ  Y  ANGELICA  and  MRS.  BABBITT,  to  enter  L.  c. 

The  PROFESSOR  ENTERS,  L.  D.,  in  shirt  sleeves,  with  a 
valise  half  full. 

PROFESSOR.  I'm  more  than  half  full,  and  I  haven't  got 
quarter  in  yet.  (Puts  valise  on  table,  L.) 

SNAP  (stands  before  door,  R.).  Excuse  me,  Professor,  but 
you  don't  want  anything  in  here  ? 

PROF.     In  there  ?     No,  no. 

SNAP.  I'm  glad  of  that.  The  fact  is,  I'm  on  guard,  and 
nobody  must  go  in  here  for  fifteen  minutes.  I  have  an  im- 
portant engagement,  and  if  you  would  only  take  my  place  — 

PROF,  (beginning  to  pack).     Yes,  but  — 

SNAP.  The  fact  is,  there  are  two  people  in  there  who  are 
preparing  a  surprise  for  you.  (Aside.}  I'll  run  over  to  the 
hotel,  and  send  his  lordship.  If  those  two  in  there  are  firm, 
they  may  get  his  consent  on  the  spot.  If  they  can't  get  it, 
they  had  better  know  the  worst  at  once.  The  Professor 
sha'n't  have  more  than  one  tragedy  on  his  hands  at  the  same 
time.  (EXIT,  L.  c.) 

PROF,  (sighing}.  I  don't  believe  anything  will  surprise 
me  now.  (Goes  up  into  alcove  to  get  some  wearing-apparel, 
which  is  placed  there.) 

ANGELICA  ENTERS,  L.  c. ;  speaks  back. 
ANGELICA.     Come  in,  mamma  ;  there's  nobody  here. 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         93 

MRS.  BABBITT  ENTERS. 

MRS.  BABBITT.     I'm  glad  of  it. 

PROF.     My  wife  !     (Half  draws  the  curtain  noiselessly^) 

MRS.  B.     There  are  certain  people  I  prefer  not  to  see. 

ANG.  (L.,  soothingly}.  But,  mamma,  we  must  meet  papa 
some  time. 

MRS.  B.  I  don't  see  the  necessity.  Attend  to  me.  1 
have  given  you  the  keys  of  all  the  other  rooms.  Keep  them 
until  your  father  demands  them  ;  that  is,  if  he  ever  has  the 
face  to  communicate  with  you.  You  may  lock  up  this  room 
when  we  leave.  I  merely  wish  to  take  my  portrait  out  of 
it.  (Takes  portrait  off  the  easel,  R.  H.)  It  is  out  of  place. 

ANG.  (has  discovered  the  PROFESSOR,  and  says  aside  to 
MRS.  BABBITT).  Papa  is  up  there  behind  the  curtain. 

MRS.  B.  (going  on  with  her  work,  speaks  the  following  with 
intentional  frigidity).  Give  the  picture  to  the  servant.  Let 
her  carry  it  up  to  the  garret,  and  store  it  there  with  the  other 
lumber,  with  its  face  to  the  wall. 

PROF,  (groans,  and  comes  forward  with  a  coat  and  vest  in 
his  hand}.  O  Zippy,  you  rend  my  heart ! 

MRS.  B.  (ignoring  him  entirely).  With  its  face  to  the  wall. 
That  settles  it. 

PROF,  (drops  on  his  knees).  Zippy  darling,  are  you  going 
to  leave,  your  home  ? 

MRS.  B.  (speaks  to  ANGELJCA,  as  if  entirely  oblivious  of  the 
PROFESSOR'S  presence).  I  told  you  before,  my  resolve  is  ir- 
revocable. I  shall  go  with  my  poor  penitent  Nisbe  to  my 
sister  in  Boston.  The  train  leaves  at  12.20.  TherQ  we 
shall  both  be  safe  from  contamination  and  deceit. 

PROF.  (R.).    Zippy,  look  at  me. 

MRS.  B.  (to  ANGELICA).  Did  you  speak?  (PROFESSOR 
totters  to  his  feet  and  buries  himselj  on  sofa  at  fire?) 

ANG.  (L.).  Don't  be  so  harsh,  nwsun*  I  have  forgiven 
Harry. 


94          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

MRS.  B.  (contemptuously).    Indeed ! 

ANG.  We  had  an  explanation,  and  made  it  all  up.  To 
be  sure,  he  was  guilty  in  deceiving  me ;  but  as  his  deception 
was  in  trying  to  make  me  believe  he  was  worse  instead  of 
better,  I  could  easily  forgive  it.  He  is  a  perfect  angel.  He 
has  no  past.  He  never  had  a  past.  I  think  I  like  him  that 
way  best.  [READ  Y  MULBERRY,  to  enter  L.  c. 

MRS.  B.  (L.  c.).  Really!  So  he's  got  you  to  believe  him 
again  ?  Poor  lamb  !  But  your  husband  has  youth  as  an 
excuse.  He  hasn't  played  the  clown  at  sixty, 

[PROFESSOR  groans. 

and  disgraced  a  gray-haired  wife  and  grown-up  children. 
He  hasn't  descended  to  the  meanness  of  plotting  with  your 
domestics  behind  your  back. 

PROF,  (coming  down).  But,  Zippy !  I  only  tried  to  give 
you  a  pleasant  surprise. 

MRS.  B.  (still  addressing  ANGELICA).  A  pleasant  surprise, 
indeed  !  You've  made  a  fool  of  yourself,  and  all  of  us,  be- 
fore the  whole  town.  I  could  have  forgiven  anything  but 
that.  (Crosses  to  R.) 

PROF.  (c.).  I  can't  argue  with  the  back  of  your  head! 
(Goes  L.,  angrily?)  If  you  won't  look  at  a  person!  (Com- 
mences to  pack  things  furiously  in  valise  on  table,  L.) 

MRS.  B.  (to  ANGELICA).  Now  help  me  to  pack  this  bas- 
ket. 

[They  go,  R.,  to  basket ;  and  during  the  following 
ANGELICA  opens  the  cabinet  and  helps  her  mother  to 
pack  silverware,  small  boxes,  jewel-cases,  etc. 

LORD  MULBERRY  ENTERS,  L.  c. 

MULBERRY.     Here  I  am,  dear  friends. 
PROF,  (testily,  after  looking  at  him).     Oh,  bother !     (Packs 
-valise  more  vehemently,  pulling  out  two  articles  to  put  in  one, 


A  N/£ht  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         95 

MUL.  (looking  at  his  watch}.  The  train  starts  in  an  hour, 
So  if  we  make  haste  we  can  talk  it  all  over. 

MRS.  B.  (aside,  vexed}.  What  does  he  want  now? 
(Wraps  up  articles  handed  by  ANGELICA,  and  packs  -vigor- 
ously} 

MUL.     I  suppose  you've  been  expecting  me  ? 

PROF.  (L.,  impatiently).     Can't  say  we  have. 

MUL.  (poking  him  in  the  side).  Capital !  Oh,  play  the 
indifferent !  The  father  of  the  girl  always  does.  But  of 
course  you  don't  mean  it.  That  Mr.  Snap  told  me  every- 
thing is  as  good  as  settled. 

[The  PROFESSOR  looks  at  him,  holds  up  his  hands  in 
puzzled  expression,  and  packs. 

MRS.  B.  (looks  at  ANGELICA  and  then  at  MULBERRY).  But, 
sir,  you  see  we  are  busy. 

MUL.  Oh,  packing !  Don't  let  me  stand  in  your  way. 
Perhaps  I  can  help  you;  I  understand  the  art  to  perfection. 
(Takes  an  ornament  from  L.  table  and  wraps  it  in  several  scraps 
of  paper  which  he  takes  from  the  waste-basket} 

PROF,  (impatiently).  May  I  ask  what  you  wish  here,  any- 
how? 

MUL.  (laughing}.  What  I  wish  ?  That's  capital.  That's 
neat.  (To  others.}  Now,  listen  to  the  Professor,  ladies, 
coolly  asking  me  what  I  wish.  (Crosses  to  PROFESSOR,  still 
wrapping  the  ornament}  Why,  you  sly  dog  you,  how  can 
you  play  off  so  ?  You'd  make  a  capital  actor.  Ladies 
(crosses  to  them,  still  wrapping},  he'd  make  his  fortune  on  the 
stage.  He  ought  to  play  in  that  piece  I  saw  over  the  waj 
last  night.  \_The  ladies  exclaim.  General  groan* 

PROF.     Will  you,  once  for  all  — 

MUL.  (nudges  him}.  How  do  you  like  my  son,  now  that 
you  know  him,  eh?  I  think  him  changed  —  changed  for 
the  better.  (Puts  the  ornament  he  was  wrapping  in  the  bas- 
ket, and  packs  it  in}  And  why?  —  eh?  —  why?  (Nud«** 
him}  It's  love.  (Picks  up  another  article  from  the  table,  L^ 


96          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

and  commences  to  wrap  it  up  in  newspaper,  which  he  takes  from 
table?)     "  Oh,  'tis  love,  'tis  love  !  "  etc. 

PROF.   (L.,  in  despair}.     Possibly.     Anything  you  like  — 

MUL.  (to  MRS.  BABBITT).  Madame,  he'll  make  the  best 
husband  in  the  world  !  (Packs  the  last  article  he  has  been 
wrapping  in  her  basket?)  The  boy  is  so  good-hearted ! 
( Takes  a  bead  cushion  from  an  armchair  near  by,  and  begins 
to  wrap  that  up.}  You  have  no  idea  how  much  he  esteems 
and  values  your  whole  family.  (About  to  put  the  cushion  in 
the  basket.} 

MRS.  B.  (preventing  him}.     What  are  you  doing  there  ? 

MUL.  Oh,  isn't  this  going  ?  (Pulls  cushion  out  and  throws 
it  on  sofa.}  He  told  me  all  about  it  last  night.  Confided  in 
me.  He  never  confided  in  me  before  —  and  I  consented. 
(Commences  to  wrap  up  a  footstool  which  he  picks  from  the 
floor.}  I  know  it's  all  right,  for  the  rascal  has  excellent 
taste.  'Gad  !  so  have  I ;  it  runs  in  the  family.  And  now,  as 
to  what  the  young  people  will  have  to  live  on.  (About  to 
pack  the  footstool  in  the  PROFESSOR'S  valise} 

[READ  Y  NISBE  and  JACK,  to  enter  R.  D 

PROF,  (hurls  footstool  away}.  You  must  be  aware  all  this 
doesn't  interest  us. 

MUL.  (seizing  his  hand}.  Noble  sentiment !  But  the  chil- 
dren must  live.  (Crosses  to  MRS.  BABBITT.)  My  boy  is  just 
like  your  husband,  no  thought  of  the  morrow.  He  takes  the 
girl  just  as  she  is,  but  you  and  I  are  sensible. 

{READ  Y  DAMASK,  to  enter  L.  c. 

MRS.  B.  (sarcastically}.  I  have  strong  doubts.  (To  PRO- 
FESSOR.) How  long  is  this  to  last?  Mr.  Babbitt,  will  you 
quietly  but  firmly  show  this  person  the  door  ? 

MUL.  (amazed}.  Show  me  the  door  !  But  I  thought  it 
was  all  right.  My  son  led  me  to  believe  —  and  that  Mr. 
Snap  assured  me !  Why,  I  thought  that  you  and  I  should 
dance  together  at  the  wedding. 

MRS.  B.  (R.).  In  the  name  of  all  that's  irritating,  at 
whose  wedding  ? 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac,         97 

NISBE  and  JACK  ENTER,  R.  door,  hand  in  hand. 

JACK.  At  ours,  I  hope !  (To  MULBERRY,  presenting 
NISBE.)  Well,  sir,  did  I  exaggerate  ?  Here  '  is  your 
daughter. 

MRS.  B.     What's  this  ?     Nisbe !     Mr.  Babbitt ! 

PROF.     This  is  the  surprise  Snap  spoke  of. 

NISBE  (crosses  to  him).  I  couldn't  help  it,  papa.  Mr. 
Cassius  made  love  so  naturally. 

MUL.  {joining  their  hands).  You  see,  I  was  right  after 
all.  [MRS.  BABBITT  and  PROFESSOR  go  L.  for  explanations. 

DAMASK  ENTERS,  L.  c. 

DAMASK.     Professor,  great  news ! 

ANG.     What  is  it  ? 

PROF.  Never  mind  your  news.  We've  got  the  greatest 
news  in  here  just  now. 

DAM.  Oh,  I  see  !  (Crosses  to  ANGELICA  ;  shakes  hands 
with  JACK.)  I  congratulate  you.  (To  all.}  But  that's  a 
minor  consideration.  Only  think,  I've  been  told  all  over 
the  city  that  the  performance  last  night  ended  in  a  great 
success  after  all. 

ANG.  ]  What? 

MRS.  B.  I    fto<r£ther\      Is  it:  possible  ! 

Nis.   (hugging  him).    |    ^  *         ''     O  papa ! 

PROF.  I  don't  want  to  hear 

another  word  about 
it. 

MUL.  Do  you  refer  to  the  play  over  the  way  at  the 
Opera  House  last  night  ?  [READ  Y  SNAP,  to  enter  L.  c. 

DAM.     Of  course. 

MUL.     I  was  there. 

MRS.  B.,  DAM.,  and  ANG.     Well  ? 

PROF,  (crosses  to  him).     Well,  how  was  it? 


98          A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac. 

MUL.  A  great  success !  Capital  piece !  I  never  saw 
anything  finer. 

DAM.     I  told  you ! 

Nis.  "and  ANG.    )    .        ,    .      There,  papa ! 

MRS.B.  j   (***'**>'    Justinian! 

\_READ  Y  SUSAN,  with  basket,  to  enter  L.  c. 

PROF.  But  I  thought  the  curtain  had  to  be  dropped  in 
the  middle  of  the  second  act. 

MUL.  So  I  heard.  I  did  not  arrive  till  later.  I  was  told 
there  had  been  some  interruption. 

DAM.  But  the  management  skilfully  turned  the  tide  of 
feeling,  and  the  performance  went  on  to  a  happy  conclusion. 

PROF,  (rubbing  his  hands).     So  they  liked  it? 

MUL.     Immensely. 

MRS.  B.     Justinian,  this  atones  for  everything  1 

SNAP  ENTERS,  hastily,  L.  c. 

SNAP.  Professor !  Professor !  Have  you  heard  ?  We 
had  a  gigantic  success  after  all,  last  night. 

MRS.  B.  (crosses  to  him).  Yes,  we've  heard  all !  {Offers 
her  hand.)  And  I  forgive  you  for  the  uncle  and  Camille. 

PROF.  Now  we'll  all  take  a  holiday  together.  Suppose, 
instead  of  taking  it  in  different  directions,  we  all  go  to  New 
York? 

MUL.     With  me  ?     That  will  be  delightful. 

PROF.     Let's  pack,  then  ;  we've  only  forty  minutes. 

ALL  (in  commotioii).     We'll  all  help  ! 

SUSAN  ENTERS,  L.  c.,  with  clothes-basket  nearly  full  of  knick- 
knacks.  And  from  now  until  curtain  falls  all  busy  them- 
selves with  packing.  MRS.  BABBITT  down  R.  with 
ANGELICA.  DAMASK  and  JACK  with  NISBE,  L.  PROFES- 
SOR and  SNAP  down  c.  MULBERRY  and  SUSAN  running 
with  articles  between  each  group. 

SNAP  (to  PROFESSOR,  aside).     Don't  come  back  too  soon. 


A  Night  Off;  or,  A  Page  from  Balzac.         99 

PROF.     What  do  you  mean  ? 

SNAP.  The  performance  last  night  was  saved  by  my 
wife's  presence  of  mind  again. 

PROF.     She's  a  trump  ! 

SNAP.  She  is.  When  she  saw  that  your  piece  was  irre 
trievably  damned  (all  stop  packing)  in  the  second  act  — 

PROF.     Well,  well  ? 

SNAP.  She  dropped  your  tragedy  altogether,  and  substi 
tuted  in  its  place  — 

PROF.     What?  [READY  curtain 

SNAP.     A  NIGHT  OFF  ! !  I 

[PROFESSOR  sinks  in  chair.  Amid  the  animation 
and  confusion  of  packing,  and  just  as  JACK  is  kiss- 
ing NISBE,  the 

CURTAIN   FALLS. 


POLLYANNA 

"The  glad  play,"  in  3  acts.  By  Catherine  Chisholta 
Crushing.  Based  on  the  novel  by  Eleanor  H.  Porter.  Jf 
males,  6  females.  2  interiors.  Costumes,  modern.  Play* 
2%  hours. 

The  story  has  to  do  with  the  experiences  of  an  orphan  girl 
who  is  thrust,  unwelcome,  into  the  home  of  a  maiden  aunt.  In 
«pite  of  the  tribulations  that  beset  her  life  she  manages  to  find 
eomethiiig  to  be  glad  about,  and  brings  light  into  sunless  lives. 
Finally,  Pollyanna  straightens  out  the  love  affairs  of  her  elders, 
and  last,  but  not  least,  finds  happiness  for  herself  in  the  heart 
of  Jimmy.  "Pollyanna"  is  a  glad  play  and  one  which  is  bound 
to  give  one  a  better  appreciation  of  people  and  the  world.  It 
reflects  the  humor,  tenderness  and  humanity  that  gave  the  story 
•uch  wonderful  popularity  among  young  and  old. 

Produced  at  the  Hudson  Theatre,  New  York,  and  for  two  sea- 
tons  on  tour,  by  George  0.  Tyler,  with  Helen  Hayes  in  the  part 
of  "Pollyanna."  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  75  Cent?. 


'THE   CHARM  SCHOOL 

A  comedy  in  3  acts.  By  Alice  Duer  Miller  and  Robert 
Milton.  6  males,  10  females  (may  be  played  by  5  malea 
and  8  females).  Any  number  of  school  girls  may  be  used 
in  the  ensembles.  Scenes,  2  interiors.  Modern  costumes. 
Plays  2%  hours. 

The  story  of  "The  Charm  School"  is  familiar  to  Mrs.  Miller'* 
readers.  It  relates  the  adv«ntures  of  a  handsome  young  auto- 
mobile salesman,  scarcely  out  of  his  'teens,  who,  upon  inheriting 
•  girls'  boarding-school  from  a  maiden  aunt,  insists  on  running  it 
himself,  according  to  his  own  ideas,  chief  of  which  is,  by  the 
Way,  that  the  dominant  feature  in  the  education  o.f  the  young 
girls  of  to-day  should  be  CHARM.  The  situations  that  arise  are 
teeming  with  humor; — clean,  wholesome  humor.  In  the  end  the 
young  man  gives  up  the  school,  and  promises  to  wait  until  the 
most  precocious  of  his  pupils  reaches  a  marriageable  age  The 
play  has  the  freshness  of  youth,  the  inspiration  of  an  extravagant 
but  novel  idea,  the  charm  of  originality,  and  the  promise  of  whole- 
some,  sanely  amusing,  pleasant  entertainment.  We  strongly  rec- 
ommend it  for  high  school  production.  It  was  first  produced  at 
the  Bijou  Theatre,  New  York,  then  toured  the  country  Two 
companies  are  now  playing  it  in  England.  (Royalty,  twenty-five 
dollars.)  Price,  75  Cents, 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45di  Street,  New  Yotk  G»y 
Our  New  Pescriotive  Catalogue  Sent  Free  on 


TWEEDLES 

Comedy  in  3  acts,  by  Booth  Tarkington  and  Harry  Leon 
Wilson.    5  males,  4  females.    1  interior.    Costumes,  modern. 
/2  hours. 


Julian,  scion  of  the  blue-blooded  Castleburys,  falls  in  love  with 
Wmsora  Tweedle,  daughter  of  the  oldest  family  in  a  Maine  village. 
The  Tweedles  esteem  the  name  because  it  has  been  rooted  in 
the  community  for  200  years,  and  they  look  down  on  "summer 
people"  with  the  vigor  that  only  "summer  boarder"  communities 
know. 

The  Castleburys  are  aghast  at  the  possibility  of  a  match,  and 
call  on  the  Tweedles  to  urge  how  impossible  such  an  alliance  would 
be.  Mr.  Castlebury  laboriously  explains  the  barrier  of  social 
caste,  and  the  elder  Tweedle  takes  it  that  these  unimportant 
Bummer  folk  are  terrified  at  the  social  eminence  of  the  Tweedles. 

Tweedle  generously  agrees  to  co-operate  with  the  Castleburya 
to  prevent  the  match.  But  Winsora  brings  her  father  to  realize 
that  in  reality  the  Castleburys  look  upon  them  as  inferiors.  The 
old  man  is  infuriated,  and  threatens  vengeance,  but  is  checkmated 
v;hen  Julian  unearths  a  number  of  family  skeletons  and  argues 
that  father  isn't  a  Tweedle,  since  the  blood  has  been  so  diluted 
that  little  remains.  Also,  Winsora  takes  the  matter  into  her  own 
hands  and  outfaces  the  old  man.  So  the  youngsters  go  forth 
triumphant.  "Tweedles"  is  Booth  Tarkington  at  his  best. 
(Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  75  Cents. 


JUST  SUPPOSE 

A  whimsical  comedy  in  3  acts,  by  A.  E.  Thomas,  author 
of  "Her  Husband's  Wife,"  "Come  Out  of  the  Kitchen," 
etc.  6  males,  2  females.  1  interior,  1  exterior.  Costumes, 
modern.  Plays  2^  hours. 

It  was  rumored  that  during  his  last  visit  the  Prince  of  Wales 
appeared  for  a  brief  spell  under  an  assumed  name  somewhere  in 
Virginia.  It  is  on  this  story  that  A.  E.  Thomas  based  "Just 
Suppose."  The  theme  is  handled  in  an  original  manner.  Linda 
Lee  Stafford  meets  one  George  Shipley  (in  reality  is  the  Prince 
of  Wales).  It  is  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight,  but,  alas,  princes 
cannot  select  their  mates  and  thereby  hangs  a  tale  which  Mr. 
Thomas  has  woven  with  infinite  charm.  The  atmosphere  of  the 
^outh  with  its  chivalry  dominates  the  story,  touching  in  its 
sentiment  and  lightened  here  and  there  with  delightful  comedy. 
"Just  Suppose"  scored  a  big  hit  at  the  Henry  Miller  Theatre, 
ttew  York,  with  Patricia  Collinge.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.) 

Price,  75  Cents. 


SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  Citf 
Our  New  Descriptive  Catalogue  Sent  Free  on  Request 


NOT  SO  LONG  AGO 

Comedy  in  a  Prologue,  3  acts,  and  Epilogue.    By 
Richman.      5    males,    7    females.      2    interiors,    1    exterior. 
Costumes,  1876.     Plays  a  full  evening. 

Arthur  Richman  has  constructed  his  play  around  the  Cinderella 
legend.  The  playwright  has  shown  great  wisdom  iii  his  choice 
of  material,  for  he  has  cleverly  crossed  the  Cinderel'.a  theme 
With  a  strain  of  Romeo  and  Juliet.  Mr.  Richman  places  his 
young  lovers  in  the  picturesque  New  York  of  forty  years  ago. 
This  time  Cinderella  is  a  seamstress  in  thj  home  of  a  social 
climber,  who  may  have  been  the  first  of  her  kind,  though  we 
floubt  it.  SLs  is  interested  sentimentally  in  the  son  of  this  house. 
Her  father,  learning  of  her  infatuation  for  tue  young  man  without 
learning  also  that  it  is  imaginary  on  the  young  girl's  part,  starts 
out  to  discover  his  intentions.  He  is  a  poor  inventor.  The 
mother  of  the  youth,  ambitious  chiefly  for  her  children,  shud- 
ders at  the  thought  of  marriage  for  her  son  with  a  sewing-girl. 
But  the  Prince  contrives  to  put  the  slipper  on  the  right  foot,  ond 
the  end  is  happiness.  The  play  is  quaint  and  agreeable  and  tha 
three  acts  are  rich  in  the  charm  of  love  and  youth.  (Royalty, 
twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  76  Cents, 


THE  LOTTERY  MAN 

Comedy  in  3  acts,  by  Eida  Johnson  Young.  4  males, 
5  females.  3  easy  interiors.  Costumes,  modern.  Plays 
2%  hours. 

In  "The  Lottery  Man"  Rida  Johnson  Young  has  seized  upon 
•  custom  of  some  newspapers  to  increase  their  circulation  by 
clever  schemes.  Mrs.  Young  has  made  the  central  figure  in  he* 
famous  comedy  a  newspaper  reporter,  Jack  Wright.  Wright  owe* 
his  employer  money,  and  he  agrees  to  turn  in  one  of  the  i-iost 
sensational  scoops  the  paper  has  e'^er  known.  His  idea  is  to 
conduct  a  lottery,  with  himself  as  the  prize.  The  lottery  is  an- 
nounced. Thousands  of  old  maids  buy  coupons.  Meantime  Wright 
falls  in  love  with  a  charming  girl.  Naturally  he  fears  that  ha 
may  be  won  by  someone  else  and  starts  to  get  as  ruany  tickets 
as  his  limited  means  will  permit.  Finally  the  last  day  is  an- 
nounced.  The  winning  number  is  1323,  and  is  held  by  Lizzie, 
en  old  maid,  in  the  housenold  of  the  newspaper  owner.  Lizzie 
refuses  to  give  up.  It  is  discovered,  however,  that  she  has  utoleu 
the  ticket.  With  this  clue,  the  reporter  threatens  her  with  arrest. 
Of  course  the  coupon  is  surrendered  and  Wright  gets  thu  girl  of 
his  choice.  Produced  at  the  Bijou  Theater,  New  York,  with 
great  success.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  75  Cents, 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 
Our  V-w  De.crimive  Catalogue  Sent  Free  on   EequeM 


ON   THE  HIRING  LINE 

Comedy  in  3  acts,  by  Harvey  O'Higgins  and  Harriet 
Ford.  5  males,  4  females.  Interior  throughout.  Costumes, 
modern.  Plays  2^  hours. 

Sherman  Fessenden,  unable  to  induce  servants  to  remain  for 
any  reasonable  length  of  time  at  his  home,  hits  upon  the  novel 
expedient  of  engaging  detectives  to  serve  as  domestics. 

His  second  wife,  an  actress,  weary  of  the  country  and  longing 
for  Broadway,  has  succeeded  in  discouraging  every  other  cook  and 
butler  against  remaining  long  at  the  house,  believing  that  by  so 
doing  she  will  win  her  husband  to  her  theory  that  country  life 
is  dead.  So  she  is  deeply  disappointed  when  she  finds  she  cannot 
discourage  the  new  servants. 

The  sleuths,  believing  they  had  teen  called  to  report  on  the 
actions  of  those  living  with  the  Fessendens,  proceeded  to  warn 
Mr.  Fessenden  that  his  wife  has  been  receiving  love-notes  from 
Steve  Mark,  an  actor  friend,  and  that  his  daughter  has  been 
planning  to  elope  with  a  thief. 

One  sleuth  causes  an  uproar  in  the  house,  making  a  mess  of 
the  situations  he  has  witnessed.  Mr.  Fessenden,  however,  has 
learned  a  lesson  and  is  quite  willing  to  leave  the  servant  problem 
to  hie  wife  thereafter.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.) 

Price,  75  Cento. 


A  FULL  HOUSE 

A  farcical  comedy  in  3  acts.  By  Fred  Jackson.  7  males, 
7  females.  One  interior  scene.  Modern  costumes.  Time, 
2%  hours. 

Imagine  a  reckless  and  wealthy  youth  who  writes  ardent 
love  letters  to  a  designing  chorus  girl,  an  attorney  brother- 
in-law  who  steals  the  letters  and  then  gets  his  hand-bag  mixed 
up  with  the  grip  of  a  burgkr  who  has  just  stolen  a  valuable 
necklace  from  the  mother  of  the  indiscreet  youth,  and  the 

the  story  of  a  play  in  which,  the  swiftness  of  the  action 
never  halts  for  an  instant.  Not  only  are  the  situations  scream- 
ingly funny  but  the  lines  themselves  hold  a  fund  of  humor  at 
all  times  This  newest  and  cleverest  of  all  farces  was  written 
by  Fred  Jackson,  the  well-known  short-story  writer,  and  is 
backed  up  by  the  prestige  of  an  impressive  New  York  success 
and  the  promise  of  unlimited  fun  presented  in  the  most  attrac- 
tive form.  A  cleaner,  cleverer  farce  has  not  been  seen  for  many 
a  long  day.  "A  Full  House"  is  a  house  full  of  laughs.  (Royalty, 
twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  75  Cents. 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 
Our  New  Descriptive  Catalogue  Sent  Free  on  Request 


KICK  IN 

Play  in  4  acts.  By  Willard  Mack.  7  males,  5  females. 
2  interiors.  Modern  costumes.  Plays  2%  hours. 

"Kick  In"  is  the  latest  of  the  very  few  available  mystery 
plays.  Like  "Within  the  Law,"  "Seven  Keys  to  Baldpate," 
"The  Thirteenth  Chair,"  and  "In  the  Next  Room,"  it  is  one 
of  those  thrillers  which  are  accurately  described  as  "not  having 
B  dull  moment  in  it  from  beginning  to  end."  It  is  a  play  with 
all  the  ingredients  of  popularity,  not  at  all  difficult  to  set  or  to 
act;  the  plot  carries  it  along,  and  the  situations  are  built  witfc 
that  skill  and  knowledge  of  the  theatre  for  which  Willard  Mack 
is  known.  An  ideal  mystery  melodrama,  for  high  schools  and 
colleges.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  75  Cents. 


TILLY   OF   BLOOMSBURY 

("Happy-Go-Lucky.")  A  comedy  in  3  acts.  By  Ian 
Hay.  9  males,  7  females.  2  interior  scenes.  Modern 
dress.  Plays  a  full  evening. 

Into  an  aristocratic  family  comes  Tilly,  lovable  and  youthful, 
with  ideas  and  manners  which  greatly  upset  the  circle.  Tilly 
is  so  frankly  honest  that  she  makes  no  secret  of  her  tre- 
mendous affection  for  the  young  son  of  the  family;  this  brings  her 
into  many  difficulties.  But  her  troubles  have  a  joyous  end  in 
charmingly  blended  scenes  of  sentiment  and  humor.  This  comedy 
presents  an  opportunity  for  fine  acting,  handsome  stage  settings. 
tnd  beautiful  costuming.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.) 

Price,  75  Cents 


BILLY 

Farce-comedy  in  3  acts.  By  George  Cameron.  10  males, 
5  females.  (A  few  minor  male  parts  can  be  doubled,  mak- 
ing the  cast  7  males,  5  females.)  1  exterior.  Costumes, 
modern.  Plays  2%  hours.- 

The  action  of  the  play  takes  place  on  the  S.  S.  "Florida,** 
bound  for  Havana.  The  story  has  to  do  with  the  disappearance  of 
a  set  of  false  teeth,  which  creates  endless  complications  among 
passengers  and  crew,  and  furnishes  two  and  a  quarter  hours  of 
the  heartiest  laughter.  One  of  the  funniest  comedies  produced  in 
the  last  dozen  years  on  the  American  stage  is  "Billy"  (some- 
times called  "Billy's  Tombstones"),  in  which  the  late  Sidney 
Drew  achieved  a  hit  in  New  York  and  later  toured  the  country 
several  times.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  75  Cents. 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 
Qur  New  Descriptive  Catalogue  Sent  Free  on  Request 


ARE  YOU  A  MASON? 

Fare*  in  3  acts.  By  Leo  Ditrichatein.  7  maiw,  7  I*. 
males.  Modern  costumes.  Plays  2%  hours.  1  inferior. 

"Are  Ton  a  Mason  f"  is  one  of  those  delichtful  fareti  Ilk* 
"Charley's  Aunt"  that  are  always  fresh.  "A  mother  and  a 
daughter,"  says  the  critic  of  the  New  York  Herald,  "had  h»s- 
bands  who  account  for  absences  from  the  joint  household  OB 
frequent  evenings,  falsely  pretending  to  be  Masons.  The  men 
do  not  know  each  other's  duplicity,  and  each  tells  his  wife  of 
having  advanced  to  leadership  in  his  lodge.  The  older  woman 
was  so  well  pleased  with  her  husband's  supposed  distinction  in 
the  order  that  she  made  him  promise  to  put  up  the  name  of  a 
visiting  friend  for  membership.  Further  perplexity  over  the 
principal  liar  arose  when  a  suitor  for  his  second  daughter's  hand 
proved  to  be  a  real  Mason.  ...  To  tell  the  story  of  the  play 
would  require  volumes,  its  complications  are  so  numerous.  It  ia 
a  house  of  cards.  One  card  wrongly  placed  and  the  whole  thing 
would  collapse.  But  it  stands,  an  example  of  remarkable  in- 
genuity. You  wonder  at  the  end  of  the  first  act  how  the  fun 
can  be  kept  up  on  such  a  slender  foundation.  But  it  continues 
and  grows  to  the  last  curtain."  One  of  the  most  hilariously 
amusing  farces  ever  written,  especially  suited  to  schools  and 
Masonic  Lodges.  (Eoyalty,  twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  75  Cents. 


KEMPY 

A  delightful  comedy  in  3  acts.  By  J.  C.  Nugent  and 
Elliott  Nugent.  4  males,  4  females.  1  interior  throughout. 
Costumes,  modern.  Plays  2y2  hours. 

No  wonder  "Kempy"  has  been  such  a  tremendous  hit  in  New 
York,  Chicago — wherever  it  has  played.  It  snaps  with  wit  and 
humor  of  the  most  delightful  kind.  It's  electric.  It's  small- 
town folk  perfectly  pictured.  Full  of  types  of  varied  sorts,  each 
one  done  to  a  turn  and  served  with  zestful  sauce.  An  ideal 
entertainment  for  amusement  purposes.  The  story  is  about  a  high- 
falutin'  daughter  who  in  a  fit  of  pique  marries  the  young  plumber- 
architect,  who  comes  to  fix  the  water  pipes,  just  because  he 
"understands"  her,  having  read  her  book  and  having  sworn  to 
marry  the  authoress.  But  in  that  story  lies  all  the  humor  that 
kept  the  audience  laughing  every  second  of  every  act.  Of  course 
there  are  lots  of  ramifications,  each  of  which  bears  its  own  brand 
of  laughter-making  potentials.  But  the  plot  and  the  story  are 
not  the  main  things.  There  is,  for  instance,  the  work  of  the 
company.  The  fun  growing  out  of  this  family  mixup  is  lively  and 
clean.  (Eoyalty,  twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  75  Cents. 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 
Our  New  Descriptive  Catalogue  Sent  Free  on  Request 


FRENCH'S 


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